#and then he kept pushing himself and fucking fainted. so instead of having a normal emotional time

[carbonateddelusion]

I have. Thoughts. I am going to explode with cartoonish sound effects that accompany my demise. play the juggalo step song at my funeral and make my old-ass relatives dance to it

[soullessjack]

another tally on the “things about jack that have been almost erased by the baby au” is how genuinely fucked up and weird and scary and violent and horrifying he is. the body horror of his existence is so. Palpable.

he looks human, but he still fundamentally is not human, and the thing that separates him from being human or belonging or being normal and loved and accepted without strings attached is his own bloodline. his own family, his own father. the blood that runs through his veins is the blood of the devil and he wasn’t fed it like Sam. the anger and rage and capacity for violence inside him isn’t an ancient curse like it was for Dean. It’s just who he is. It’s his neurology. Jack enters a guilt/grief-induced psychosis so bad he starts hallucinating his own dead evil father who proceeds to say “I’m in your head, your DNA,” and goes on about how Jack’s place with the only chosen family he ever cared for is that of their little pet monster who’s only kept around to kill things for them. And this is his subconscious, remember, these are all Jack’s own thoughts being given a hallucinatory voice.

When jack is first born he doesn’t even register that he’s not a full human. It’s not until he catches dean telling the sheriff that he’s a Nephil and gets stabbed all the way through his entire heart to the hilt of the angel blade and survives, that he realizes he’s Not Normal. Jack stabs himself 18 times with “grim determination,” dedicated to making a wound stay open in his body, but nothing happens. He doesn’t know what any of this is, but he knows it’s dangerous and he’s seen firsthand what he can do, because he sent the sheriff careening backwards into glass when he didn’t mean to do anything more than push her away. He tells Dean he will hurt someone again [whether he means to or not]. And he tells Sam, using his powers is like breathing; it’s a subconscious, physical, neurological part of his system that he cannot (currently) consciously control or stop.

He’s literally a living weapon. These powers of his that hurt people are akin to breathing. His violence and his evil is deep seated and runs through his heart and bleeds out of him. But he can’t bleed the evil out. He can’t escape what he was born into or what keeps him alive. He can’t even live without this nuclear power that ostensibly others him from everyone forever. He’s foaming at the mouth and seizing and fainting and bleeding and going into total systemic failure and subsequently dying as a human because he just isn’t human and he can’t live as one even if he wants to, even if that is a part of him it still isn’t the only part of him. The other half that makes him untrustworthy and violent and angry and dangerous and nuclear and evil and feared and hated is the one part he is left dying without.

His body dies a first time because it couldn’t live without its own hereditary disease, he died as a human and goes to human heaven and sees and rekindles with his human mother, the part of him that he wants to be and loves but can’t exist as. He’s brought back but now he’s a time bomb, a nuclear reactor internally melting down. he’s a weapon, but he’s alive because he was born as a weapon, and neither of these things were his choice.

and then a second time his body dies because he was only registered as a threat with no humanity. his eyes are burned out of his skull and instead of heaven with his mother, instead of humanity, he wakes up in the pitch black abyss where other nonhumans go when they die, then he’s brought back and he’s a weapon for the third time. He’s a living bomb, a collapsing black hole, and he has to eat human hearts ripped straight from the chest to keep his bomb body alive and ready for detonation, ready for collapse. He’s so far from human, further than he ever wanted to be, further enough to make his deep rooted fear a reality that he’s too suicidal to bother rebuking. Why rebuke the truth? The absolute truth that the devil, the evil of all things is in his blood and he is evil and he was a born weapon whose body exists to destroy and kill and not even his own love or will can stop it.

He is a gun that doesn’t want to be a gun and hates that his body is made to shoot and kill, but he has no choice in being anything else but a gun. He cannot ever be good, he was never good to begin with, he was just malfunctioning, glitching, experiencing an error and virus and flaw that he wishes was his entire programming. His eyes glow yellow like the corrupted Star Wars Sith and Rosemary’s Baby and a whole slew of evil things that are evil and meant to be rejected. When he gets angry, people stare at him as if he’s a cornered animal, because that’s what he is to them. To both sides of the equation, he is an animal. A foreign creature, a thing, he’s not human enough to be human and he’s not angelic enough to be an Angel. He’s some weird mixture that nobody can understand or accept. He’s unpredictable and violent and wild and born that way and only in his subsequent domestication, only in the extension of personhood and humanity can he be deemed worth loving. He’s like a dog, detrimentally loyal, old yeller going rabid while saving his family and having to be shot in an act of mercy. Barking and biting at people who might hurt his loved ones and killing them as an act of love. Sam wanted Nick to burn so Jack burns Nick and that’s why Jack says they would be grateful. He did what Sam wanted. Same for the other biblical killings. He’s the cat sinking its fangs into rodents and birds. Leaving the punctured corpses on the doormat as a gift, I did this for you because I love you, don’t you love me too?

I haven’t eaten well in the past two days does this click click anyone’s boom. Saliva

[wain-fleets]

CONTAGIOUS.

miles decides to take care of a sickly lyle — someone decides to watch !

( miles quaritch x lyle wainfleet x fem! recom!reader )

SMUT WARNING! NSFW, MDNI. ( fluff to extra stuff .. ) p in v, fingering, threesome, double penetration, oral, anal, rough play, pet names, praising, etc. very nasty stuff. satiate my thirst.

miles sighed heavily, lightly tossing about the bottle of water in his hands. it crinkled and sloshed, making a faint noise that wasn't near loud enough to break through fike's snores (who had managed to fall asleep on the floor, next to the fridge after having a bit too much to drink). his bare feet pattered against the cold tile flooring as he made his way past the sleeping recom for the second time, and down the dimly lit hall to his own room.

or he wished it were his own. maybe then he'd actually catch some shuteye, instead of listening to lyle's constant chattering. still, he didn't want to think about where he'd be without the annoying fuck.

the door let out a small hiss as it slid open automatically upon registering his presence. *fancy shit.* and as soon as he stepped inside, he was met with the familiar sight of lyle lazing about in the bottom bunk. normally, lyle would sleep up top, but he could hardly get himself up there.

he was sick as a dog— supposedly.

now, miles wasn't sure why, but a part of him did take pity on the man. even if it was rather thin at 11 at night, his patience was there. and lyle sounded like a dog with a squeaker lodged in its throat. he needed water.

miles allowed his weight to press in the mattress at lyle's side. the metal frame groaned just a bit before settling, as lyle rolled over to face him.

"here." miles grunted out, offering the water to lyle, who kept himself tucked beneath his blankets. lyle could see he was shivering, but he had a relieved look on his face as he accepted the drink. he popped the lid off, bringing the spout to his lips and gulping eagerly. until nothing but a few sips remained in the bottom.

"ugh.. thanks.." he managed, "didn't expect you to be back in here tonight. youre gonna get sick, yknow."

"i figure that, but i think bein' sick beats sleepin' in there with mansk n' prager."

"they get on your nerves?"

miles shook his head, his tail thumping against the mattress as his palm rubbed at his forehead. "no .."

lyle wasn't sure what to think of the dry reply, but he didn't push it. he knew that miles wasnt always the best at expressing himself, whether it be in a positive way or a not so positive one. miles refused to show any signs of weakness, even when he probably should.

lyle could be the same way at times, but right now? there was no point in even trying to fight it. he felt like shit, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

a pained groan slipped from his blue lips as his head lolled back into his pillow, and a whine rattled his vocal chords. he squeezed his eyes shut, sniffling and sucking in rapid, shallow breaths in an attempt to clear his airways. this caught miles' attention, once more.

"here, sit up." the colonel demanded, and as much as lyle wanted to refuse, it was built-in now to *listen to miles*. he was his boss, after all. pretty much. lyle didn't mind.

"then help." lyle huffed at him, and miles couldn't help an eyeroll. their hands locked and lyle sat himself up with a small wheeze deep in his chest, keeping his hand clutched to miles' so he wouldn't fall back.

his ears twitched, pinning back against his head at the unfamiliar touch he felt. miles placed his hand against lyle's lower back, gently pushing in on it as a nudge of guidance.

"straighten your back— deep breaths, now." even though lyle was still tense from what he was seeing (as it was rather baffling: miles was never this gentle), he couldn't help but melt into it. lyle was sick, he felt cold. and miles was warm- his hands were so warm.

he complied to the simple command, rolling his shoulders a bit as he straightened his posture, and sucked in deeply. his nose was stuffy, so the task wasn't the easiest, but after a few tries he felt all the ick flowing downwards, and he could breathe again.

miles watched lyle take in deep chugs of oxygen, his eyes lingering over his lips before settling on his nose. lyle resembled rudolph, only far less happy than that stupid fucking deer. but a whole lot cuter, nonetheless.

"there you go.." miles murmured, looking down at his hand, which he held in place for lyle to continue using as support. he felt his heart skip a beat at the contact. the two men had always had a thing for each other, but it never went further than a few drunken makeout sessions.

but the interest was there. the care was there. and, even, a love that went beyond something friendly. on the outside they looked to be brothers in arms, but behind closed doors? more like very, very not related guys in dick to ass. at least that's what they wanted it to be. but neither had the balls to fess up.

as miles lost himself in thoughts of the man sitting just next to him, his eyes tracked downwards. over the corporal's bare chest, down to the blanket that hung loosely over his lap. the sight made his breath hitch, his palms growing sweaty, to which he wiped them off on the thighs of his sweatpants.

lyle, who was still catching his breath, noticed this. and he felt his own panic settling into his gut. it bubbled painfully in his belly, burning in his abdomen. did miles notice how hard he was?

lyle adjusted the blanket over his lap, trying to more properly hide the grown bulge beneath it to no avail. plus, it was too late. miles had noticed. yeah, he saw that. cant hide from him.

lyle's tail thumped under the covers, a clear indicator of his anxiety, and his cheeks flushed. miles watched his every move. like a hound trained on a rabbit.

"hmh.. it's okay," miles started, finding the confidence within himself to finally speak. "i know my touch is 'bout as good as it gets." he drawled, that southern accent thick with an almost sadistic tinge. he liked it. he liked seeing lyle all worked up and uncomfortable in his presence.

it made him feel in charge. strong. and incredibly fucking horny. he wasn't even going to attempt to hide his own erection-- it was huge and it was happening.

his pants tightened as his cock strained against them, making him hiss softly behind his canines. it hurt. so good.

lyle chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. he was embarrassed, and unsure what to say. was miles toying with him? making fun of him? was he upset with him? lyle couldnt tell. until he noticed the clear indication in miles' pants.

"sorry.."

"whaddya got to apologize for?"

their bellies danced with butterflies, a feeling neither of them thought possible anymore. lyle shrugged.

and without thinking, before he even knew what he was doing, miles reached out. his hand cupped between lyle's hidden thighs, his palm slightly compressing the mound in the other man's boxers.

lyle's whole body tensed, his breathing growing more faint than it already was. he grabbed miles' bicep, and the colonel stilled his movements.

"w.. want me to stop?" miles whispered, starting to retract his hand. but lyle stopped him.

the corporal grabbed his wrist, pushing his palm further onto his crotch and bucking his hips into it. a mewl left his lips; a whine of desperation and yearning. he needed to be touched.

at this, now having consent, miles couldn't hold back anymore. he ripped the covers from the bed, carelessly tossing them aside before returning his hand to lyle's boxers. he massaged the man's length through the fabric, earning himself a whimper of gratitude. but he knew lyle needed more.

he guided lyle to lean back against the wall, using one hand to grip the recom's braid. he roughly snatched it back, forcing lyle's chin to tilt upward to expose his neck. his other hand worked lyle's boxers down around his thighs, just enough to free his cock.

"fuck.. that's pretty." miles groaned at the new sight. lyle was big. the colonel had already known this, but actually seeing it was a whole new experience. his hand wrapped around lyle, starting to pump him slowly, working him over.

lyle's moans and curses of ecstasy were intoxicating to his superior. everything felt so right. and he wasn't stopping for shit.

he sank his fangs into lyle's neck, still gripping his braid to hold him in place while delivering deliberate, slow strokes to his dick.

lyle groaned, his hands searching until they found the tie to miles' sweatpants, and he pulled them loose. miles stopped him.

"nah, baby.. let me take care of ya. you're the sick one, ain't ya?" miles inquired, his hot breath fanning over the blue skin of the other male's neck.

lyle's lip curled upward in a small, lazy smirk. "well yeah, but i still wanna." his voice was a bit nasally, and playful towards his boss. with that undeniable hunger.

miles wanted nothing more than to pin him down and take him, but he had to restrain himself. lyle was still sick, and he feared that if he pushed too hard, he'd exhaust the man or put him off. so he kept himself light.

"a'right.. well, if ya wanna, i aint stoppin' ya. but you best remember," his grip on the recom's queue tightened, making lyle feel a tingling sensation throughout his whole frame. every nerve jolting with excitement. normally this would hurt, but damn he was too heated to even register that at the moment. "you go and get yourself hurt, it aint gonna be my fault.. understood?"

"uh huh--"

miles bared his teeth, glaring down into lyle's wide, yellow eyes.

"use your damn words." he seethed. he hadn't meant to sound so cruel, no. but the overwhelming strain between his legs was painful, and he needed relief. or he'd completely lose his mind. he was teetering between sane and falling off the deep end.

lyle was just too fucking cute; too hot. those sounds, those eyes. his tail waggling back and forth and those ears giving away his true emotions.

"yes sir." lyle responded back to him properly this time, and for a split second he resembled a soldier once again instead of a man weakened in another's arms. but just like ice under the desert sun, it was gone before it even stood a chance. and they were both okay with that.

"yeah.. good boy." miles sneered, freeing lyle's hair and allowing the man to proceed. he sat back on his knees slightly, watching as lyle tugged his sweatpants down.

briefly, his eyes landed on lyle's cock again. it twitched and pulsed, begging for contact again. a bead of precum gathered on its slit, and miles swiped it up with his thumb. promptly licking the digit clean.

lyle was awestruck momentarily, unsure of what had just happened until it clicked. miles had tasted him, and god did he want to return the favor. he hugged his lower lip between his canines as he slowly peeled down the colonel's boxers.

a pleased sigh exhaled from miles' lips as his cock was finally freed from its confines. lyle took note of the small wet patch on the plaid fabric he'd just removed. the small details. miles was starved for him, just as lyle was.

miles was notably bigger than lyle, even though they were both pretty huge. these new bodies were something else, that was for sure. covered in stripes and freckles in even the most intimate places.

lyle breathed a tiny sigh of wonderment as he reached his hand out, carefully wrapping it around the colonel's length. he didn't stroke it, and instead gave it a gentle squeeze, taking his time to just feel it. he had no idea how he'd managed to make this fellow marine so damn hard.

he leaned down, pushing up the hem of miles' tshirt with his free hand as the other guided the man's cock towards his mouth, and he used his tongue to clean the small mess gathered atop it. miles gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into lyle's shoulders.

"fuck.." he whispered, pursing his lips as he suppressed a moan. but he wasn't able to suppress his hands, and his claws dug into lyle's neck. he shoved the corporal back onto the bed, pinning him down by his throat.

miles was so swift in his movements that it dazed lyle briefly, and he blinked rapidly up at the larger recom. he felt the pressure on his jugular, but he wasnt afraid. if anything, this only excited him further. he watched as miles pushed himself up to hover above him, trapping lyle's waist between his knees after fully removing his sweatpants and ripping his tshirt off.

lyle sucked in a deep breath of air through his mouth as his throat was released. he grunted as miles shoved his shoulders down, forcing lyle's face towards his cock. lyle was trapped, his hands holding miles' thighs as he gazed up at the colonel.

miles was practically sitting on his chest, but he made sure not to apply his full weight. and though he was trying to fight off his primal side, he was losing.

"suck my fuckin' cock.." he demanded through his teeth, using one hand to cradle lyle's head towards his groin.

he couldn't hold back a moan this time, as lyle's lips parted and he took miles into his mouth.

"ah, fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.." miles cursed, bucking his hips forward. lyle gagged at the knock to the back of his throat, but he didn't pull away and endured, instead starting to slowly bob his head.

he'd never sucked a dick before, but he could tell he was doing well by the blissful groans and grunts from his companion. he closed his eyes, his brows furrowed as he tried to deepen the hold his lips had on the colonel.

miles tightened his jaw, his abdomen sucking inward as he leaned his head back. he was trying his damndest to keep quiet, but it was hardly working. the profanity escaping his lips was filthy.

his gaze dropped back down to lyle, watching the man work him with his mouth. the sight ignited something inside the colonel, and the urge to cum was too damn strong.

without warning, miles grabbed lyle's head, placing his palms on either side of it firmly to hold it in place. he started rocking his hips, back and forth. slowly, gradually speeding up until he was pounding poor lyle's face.

"ah, fuck! baby.. oh shit." the colonel panted with each thrust, his blood pumping so quickly that a ringing filled his ears, drowning out the sounds of lyle's own moans and grunts.

this was the first thing you saw when you stopped in the doorway. your footsteps halted, your eyes wide in shock and the pointed ears on your head perked in what was a mix of confusion and curiosity. followed by a pang of fear. what the hell was going on?

you felt your hands starting to tremble, your heart rate soaring to dangerous heights.

it was almost instantaneous. as soon as you realized what was going on, heat flooded through you, centering to your abdomen. it felt as if your guts were knotting up, a deliciously painful feeling. anxiety paired with the overwhelming need to get fucked.

you squeezed your thighs together, with a faint gasp. the two men didn't pick up on this small sound, but they did pick up your scent. well, miles did. lyle couldn't breathe through his nose for shit.

that smell.

they both stopped moving. miles released lyle's head, allowing the recom to finally breathe again.

"what?" lyle croaked out, as miles twisted slightly, tilting his head to see you past his shoulder.

you considered trying to hide, but you knew it was hopeless. you were caught, and you weren't sure whether to feel negatively about that or not.

but the way the two looked at you, you realized maybe it wasnt so bad. even if embarrassing and shameful.

"uh, sorry. ill just-" you started, but miles cut you off.

"whats that smell?" did you stink? oh god- "hell that's good.. that you, sweet pea?"

a shock waved through you. was he speaking to you? only then did you finally understand why you'd been caught. these new bodies. they could smell every bit of your desire. and lyle picked up on it when he sat up.

their mouths flooded with drool. they needed you. whatever was getting passed around, it was contagious, and there was no controlling it.

"heyy.. y/n," lyle dragged, licking his lips. "wanna join?" it almost sounded like he was joking, teasing you. and you almost laughed. gladly you stopped it, seeing he was being dead serious.

but how were you supposed to answer that question? yes, no? it wouldn't be right to join in, would it? you could only stand, your lips parted as you tried to come to a conclusion. you were taking too long, though.

miles lifted a hand, waving two fingers towards himself in a gesture for you to come over.

"wait, i-"

"nah, c'mere. i can smell ya.. i know you wanna."

you paused at his words. and caved in. your legs felt weak as you shut the door behind yourself and neared the bunk. miles stood, pulling lyle up with him. they stood in front of you, their bodies on full display.

and what a damn good display it was.

toned chests, two huge cocks eager for one another and now for you.

"are you guys sure-" you were cut off. again. lyle snatched your hips, growling lowly as he roughly tripped you up and pinned you to the mattress. any signs of his ailment had subsided, and he had a feral look in his eyes. as did miles.

they both admired you from above, eyeing you like two hungry wolves would a freshly cut flank from the juiciest doe.

"finally found our lil culprit, wainfleet." miles huffed out, reaching down to push the tank top clothing your body above your stomach. his hand glided over your warm abdomen, working gentle circles into it in a soft massage.

"yeah.. shit, it was her the whole time." the corporal clicked, his hand grabbing your knee. he slid his palm upwards, pushing his fingers under the leg of your shorts.

they noticed the quizzical look in your eyes.

"huh. darlin'," miles crooned, leaning over you. "we've been smellin' your fine ass for months. couldnt figure out what it was, till now. just 'bout all the guys been lookin' for you."

"yeah. y'know, you could've just said you wanted us." lyle shrugged at his own words, and you gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the panties beneath your shorts. a grin overtook his lips as he felt the damp cloth. "damn, you're soakin'.."

his middle finger slipped under the small garment, caressing your folds with a tenderness that took your breath away. you couldn't hold in a small squeak, just as miles shoved your tank top up the rest of the way. your breasts fell from your shirt, and both the men seemed to purr at the sight.

as miles leaned down, taking a nipple into his mouth to suckle at it eagerly, his other hand kneaded the opposite breast. the sight made lyle want to release all over the both of you right then and there, but he held back, and instead plunged his finger deep inside your pussy.

he felt your walls, pushing his finger into that spot that made your toes curl and your breath stop.

"fuck, colonel, she's tight.."

miles released your nipple with a pop. "mmhmm.. guess we oughta get her ready then."

those words made your whole body give up. if you wanted to fight it before, you sure as hell couldn't now. you were in this, and dammit, you were not leaving until you felt quenched. until they did, too. they'd make sure of that.

lyle pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving you empty. he brought it to his lips, and miles sat up to join him in aweing at how wet you were. they snickered to themselves, before they both leaned in and licked lyle's hand clean.

their tongues pressed together, and they shared a sweet kiss before pulling back to share a knowing look. you tasted good.

focusing their attention back on you, you found your shorts being yanked off by miles. lyle leaned down, pushing your knees wide apart so they could get a good look at those underwear.

"you need it bad, dontcha?" lyle mocked, dropping down and gripping your thighs as he buried his face in your panties, licking and sucking your clit through them.

"oh god, lyle-" you panted, and he whimpered in response.

this was heaven for him. he had tasted miles, and now he was tasting you. in truth, he'd been pining for your fine ass since day one. the slut.

his mouth engulfed your whole mound through the fabric, and he kept sucking the moisture from it. as you moaned and whined, you noticed miles sat at your side, stroking himself at a steady pace as he admired the view.

"that feel good, darlin'?" the colonel questioned, using his free hand to brush your hair back out of your face. "mm.. good girl, keep moanin' for me. not too loud, now.."

miles praised you, and you quivered under lyle's ministrations. he pulled from your pussy, only momentarily, just enough time to rip your panties off and toss them at miles.

a squeal rattled your throat as lyle delved back into your heat, his nails digging into your thighs to leave behind faint scratches as he lapped away at your soaked folds. now unprotected, it felt so much better. his tongue teased your clit, and he took it between his lips to give it a hard suckle that made you clutch the bedsheets. your knuckles paled as you let out a loud moan, only for a large hand to cover your mouth.

miles muffled your sounds of pleasure with his palm, shushing you quietly.

"shh, now. dont want anybody else walkin' in here. dont think you could take more than two of us, sweet pea." he reminded, and you made an effort to be more quiet. though it was hard.

"yeah, good girl.. look'it you. damn." he breathed, leaning over you to suck at your breast once more. he kept a hand over your mouth, the other gripping your panties as he grinded his cock against them. "mmh.. mhm, fuck." he released your nipple to speak again, "so damn pretty." he whispered, peppering kisses down your belly until he reached lyle.

lyle panted as he pulled back temporarily, his mouth and chin covered in your juices. he gazed up at miles, who leaned in to lick his face clean, before they both focused on your pussy.

miles released your mouth, using his now free hand to spread your pussy lips.

"pretty fuckin' pussy, colonel." lyle breathed, "tastes damn good too.. you gotta try this."

they were passing you back and forth, treating you like a shared dish for the both of them to dine upon.

"guys-"

"hush." they both ordered you sternly, their voices mixing into one. one that you simply listened to.

"you relax and enjoy yourself, buttercup." lyle smacked his lips, pushing himself up to sit aside you as miles dipped to replace him between your legs.

you whined up at lyle, whimpering as miles' tongue shoved inside your wetness. lyle gave you a sweet smile, dipping his head to give you a kiss. you could taste yourself on his lips.

he broke the kiss to tilt your head back, leaning down to sink his teeth into your neck, marking you. you moaned, and miles groaned along with you.

"so fuckin' good." the colonel panted, pushing your knees up to your chest as he feasted away at your swollen folds. the change in position made you all the more heated, and your hands clung to lyle.

"oh fuck.. im gonna- i need to-"

"yeah, yeah, good girl. you gonna cum for us? huh? gonna cum all over his face?" lyle whispered in your ear, and you nodded hastily.

"uh huh, uh huh-" you agreed, and miles sped up his tongue, abusing your sensitive bud with it again and again. "uh huh!"

"yeah? yeah?" lyle nodded with you, keeping his eyes locked with yours. "good girl. yeah, cum for me baby. cum for us. good girl.."

his praise sent you over the edge, and just as you reached your peak, he smashed his lips to yours to silence the loud moan that would come with it. miles grinned, lapping up the remaining juices pooled in front of his mouth.

he helped you come down from your high as lyle kissed you repeatedly, the corporal murmuring soft 'good jobs' to you.

miles pulled back when you were fully spent, but they weren't done.

they needed to cum, too.

they stared down at you, with those hungry eyes again. and though you were weak, you wanted to please them just as much as they had you. you bit your lip, pushing yourself to lay on your side.

lyle sat on his knees behind you, his cock rubbing against your bare ass as miles took the front. they grabbed one of your legs, lifting it and forcing your knee to your shoulder.

"fuck.. can i fuck your ass?" lyle suddenly blurted, not even realizing what he'd said. he made it sound so casual, as if asking for a basic need. and to him, it was. he needed to be inside that tight ass of yours. he couldn't take it anymore.

"but you're so.. big." you muttered uncertainly back at him, and he pouted.

"ill be gentle, baby.." he assured you, and your tail flicked out, your ears pinning against your hair as you considered it.

miles was already positioning himself at your front entrance, starting to ease himself inside you carefully. you covered your mouth, and without even considering the consequences you just nodded to lyle.

"thank fuck." the corporal chirped, coating his hand in saliva and spreading it about his cock and your asshole.

your breath caught. they were going in at the same time? what the hell did you just agree to?

before you could say anything, you felt your ass being stretched. slowly, painfully. it already hurt enough on its own, but paired with miles' cock deep inside your pussy as well, it was excruciating.

he held you steady by your waist, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched as he refrained from just taking off without letting you get used to him.

but it felt so good at the same time.

lyle pushed in as far as he could reach, going at a snail's pace just for you. he stopped once he bottomed out, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"fuck. so fucking tight. fuck." he cursed.

miles whined along with him, also holding himself deep inside you. you felt him against your cervix, and you could swear your guts were flipped upside down now.

they savored the feeling of your plush walls hugging their cocks so tightly, squeezing and clenching around their lengths as if begging them to stay planted there. lyle peppered your shoulder in tender kisses all the while, murmuring soft comforting words of reassurance.

once you felt you were ready, even with faint tears in your eyes, you gave them the go ahead. and when they found a rhythm, they couldn't hold back.

as lyle would pull back, miles would push in.

as miles pulled back, lyle would shove back in again.

their hips rocked into yours ruthlessly, and fortunately the pain had mostly diminished. replaced with a pleasure from the full, hot feeling in your belly.

"yeah, fuck.. good girl."

"so fuckin' tight. shit."

"you feel so good baby."

"milkin' my fuckin' cock. fuck yeah."

"that's a good girl. shit. take it."

"take my fuckin' cock."

filthy, filthy, filthy.

you could only lay there, a moaning mess as they used your holes.

"fuck, im gonna cum!" lyle whimpered, his hips snapping forward again.

"ah, dammit.." miles hissed.

both of the men grew sloppy in their movements, their breathing growing heavier and heavier, their groans and grunts and whimpers more frequent.

until they both shoved deep inside at once, releasing all they had, painting your walls white with their loads.

they caught their breath atop you, before they gave in and just laid down on either side of you, their cocks still within your depths.

lyle hugged your waist from behind, burrowing his face in your hair. as miles rested in front of you, kissing your forehead and wiping away your tears as he massaged your hip.

lyle reached around to rub your abdomen, trying to provide some more comfort.

"you okay..?" he whispered.

"yeah, she's alright." miles whispered the answer for you, but the two of you doubted lyle heard as he was already fast asleep.

miles stared into your eyes with a gentle gaze now, simply admiring the features that made up you. you were so beautiful. how had he not noticed before? he bit back any further speaking.

"..can you sleep?" he whispered through lyle's faint snoring.

you nodded sleepily, your eyelids already hanging heavy.

he kissed your nose, "sleep."

that simple order was all you needed to doze off. still stuffed completely by both the men you were trapped between.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the next morning, mansk peeked his head in. prager was near behind him, wanting to see the condition of lyle. they hadn't expected to find three of their teammates in the room.

all naked, under one blanket. tossing and turning from the snotty noses they were all experiencing.

"wh-" fike poked his head in, his eyes widened in shock. as always. he had a mad hangover, and he thought for a second that he was still drunk as hell. "huh?!"

miles groaned in irritation, snatching up a half empty water bottle and hurling it straight at the other three recoms. they all jumped and fled the room, closing the door as they retreated in a fit of snickers and chuckles.

they were never going to let that down.

[peaktora]

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 ˚◞♡ ⃗ suguru getou

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ for the past month, geto has been noticing a stranger (you) struggling with skating, and it's been getting on his nerves. how can someone be so bad at it? to solve his irritation, he decides to teach you how to skate…or atleast, he tries to.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊2.0k words. lordddd there’s a lot of dialogue (i swear more than half of this is talking). tbh it’s basically one sided irritation for reader + skater!suguru. no pronouns used or specified gender. there’s no specified au or mention of jujutsu high, so it can be the universe of anything you want it to be. intended lowercase.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊did something new and wrote for getou !! i did a little research before writing this so i don’t think he’s ooc … but, in any case, this is more of a practice piece than anything else, and i just wanted to get something out there before i got caught up with studying for exams

"there’s no way," getou thinks to himself.

you had this determined look on your face, but your balance was all over the place. you kept wobbling and stumbling, trying to find your footing. each time you pushed off, you would lose control and end up falling. but you know what? you never gave up. even though you kept failing, you kept getting back up and trying again.

that right there? was the fucking problem.

it's really getting to him. gnawing on his bones from within and burrowing beneath his skin.

how many times will he have to see you here? hell, you’ve been practicing for a whole month now, with no progress from the first time you hopped on your board.

and it's not like he has a problem with beginners doing this, it's just you. you're so stubborn when it comes to asking for help, he can tell just by watching you. watching how you closely observe the more advanced skaters, and when they try to give you tips, you just give a tight-lipped smile and don't apply them. it frustrates him. at this point? just quit.

another fall on your butt is observed from getou’s seat on the bench, and that's when he chooses to get up and go home.

once he gets to the sidewalk, he drops his board and hops on. just as he was about to start skating, he caught a faint mutter from you. it was a curse, something like "damnit," followed by a kick of a rock. he probably wasn't supposed to notice—or even think about it, normally, he wouldn't give you a second glance. but maybe, he figures, you won't be such a bother if he gives you a hand. he can be pretty persistent when he wants to. and you know what? that could be useful with you.

he stands in the middle of the sidewalk, torn between going home and going to your aid. but it's pointless, really. he's on his way back to the park before he realizes it. as he comes to a stop in front of you, the sound of his wheels softens and you scoot back.

he’s got all those insults and jokes about you swirling in his mind, but what actually comes out of his mouth is, “you need some assistance here?”

you raise your hand and create a makeshift visor, blocking the glare of the sun. "what?" you ask, squinting at him.

“you want lessons? i can help—“ he points at your board. “free of charge.”

the following seconds are silent. you give him one more good look before replying, "i see you around here a lot."

this was not, by any means, meant to steer into small talk. getou fights the urge to sigh and instead, he smiles, slipping his hand into his pocket. "what can i say? this place brings me peace."

"you’re really good.”

“hm?”

“you’re really good at what you do. y’know…skating.”

huh, and he had the nerve to think he knew more about you. "it's all about how you practice,” he says.

you bring your knees up to your chest, letting your hands hang from them. "how do i practice if i always feel like i'm gonna slide off the board?"

“use tips.”

“from you?”

getou doesn't say anything, simply shrugging in response. you snort and shake your head, "now you're starting to sound like one of those salesmen.”

you interrupt him before he can speak. “for the—uh—" you stand up and grab your board. "lessons you mentioned? i think i'm doing okay by myself, but thanks for the offer." you pat his shoulder and walk away.

getou raises his hands in the air and walks over to the bench. "apologies," he mumbles. he slides his skateboard under the bench and sits down. sighing, he drapes his arm around the back of the bench, and taps his fingers against the metal. “wanna show me what you got?”

you stop walking, raising a brow at him. "you’re saying that as if i owe you something.”

"i never said you owed me anything,” he pauses, looking for the right words to say. “think of it as showing your skills."

“why am i showing my skills’ to a stranger?”

he scratches the back of his head. “really, you’re always skating infront of people you don’t know. i mean, this is a public space.”

"you said to show you what i got. which means skating specifically for you. not anyone else."

"you’re right, i did say that.”

"exactly," you state, as getou hums. it's quiet for a while, and he’s just starting to get up to go home when you interrupt the silence.

“i thought when you owe someone something it had to be mutually—uh—what’s that word?”

he sighs and blinks slowly in your direction, "agreed?"

"bingo!" you exclaim, snapping your fingers and pointing at him. "so i can't be in debt of anything because we haven't even agreed on the terms of the deal—i mean, we just met."

why didn’t he just go home? "this conversation is going in circles," getou groans, throwing his head back. he knew he had patience, but if this conversation went on, he'd need a lot more.

you stuff your open hand into your jeans pocket. “you’re the one who’s being weird.”

"you’re exaggerating the entire situation. i just wanted to help you out.”

"does it look like i need your help that bad?"

"honestly?" he asks, and you answer with a nod. "well…i can’t tell unless you show me somethin’.”

you roll your eyes, and he takes that as a good sign. you'll come around, he thinks, returning his gaze to the area around him.

he looks at nature's colors, from the lush green trees to the endless blue sky. his gaze darts from one sight to the next, and he can’t help but think that all of it is beautiful.

after a moment, he looks over in your direction and sees you walking towards a capsule. he knew you’d come around. you take a deep breath before positioning your skateboard at the edge. it’s not a big drop, in fact, it’s the smallest drop someone would be able to do here. but why you choose to show off your skills like this? when you’re a beginner? getou has no clue, yet he leans forward in his seat. your foot lightly presses against the nose of the board, making it rise and fall repeatedly.

just when he thinks you're about to drop in, you turn towards him and blurt out, "haven’t you seen me skate here before?”

getou wants to say "i can’t help but notice you," but he doesn't. patience, he says to himself.

but really, he’s ran out of that.

he leans slumps in his seat. “look, are you gonna do it or not? i can always leave. i'd be more than happy to. i have many things that need to get done today. so, what's it gonna be, rookie?"

“rookie?” you scoff. “please, i’m a little more advanced than that.”

“yeah? well i wouldn’t know, because ’m not seeing you skate.”

"you’re very excited about this.”

“on a time limit,” he says, tilting his head. “so hurry it up.”

“it’ll be worth the wait. watch, you’ll be speechless."

“i’m assuming for all the wrong reasons?”

you frown, “you know, you seem to be great at everything except knowing when to shut up.”

funny, most people would think of him to be an introvert. a person who’s more of a listener than anything else.

getou smirks, and taps his imaginary watch, "time is ticking.”

you glance at him once more over your shoulder, before murmuring a dismissive "whatever." getou watches intently as you reposition your board on the edge of the capsule. once again, you place your foot on the nose.

just as you drop in, he spots the mistake. he sees it in an instant, how your front foot gets way too close to the bolts. and that's when it happens—you start to back out halfway through the drop, losing your balance. instead of that graceful, picture-perfect dive you had in mind, it all goes awry. you go the remaining distance on your back, and geto can't imagine how much it hurt when the concrete hit the back of your head.

"are you okay?" getou yells, sitting up in his seat.

you stay silent, and if geto hadn't pushed you to feel the need to prove a point, he would’ve taken the idea of leaving you here more seriously than he is right now. he runs to the edge of where you dropped in, and looks down at you. you’re sprawled out on the ground, hands covering your face.

the first thought that came to mind was to slide down the drop, and so, he does.

immediately, he rushes over to you, crouching down at your side. "hey," he says, but it comes out much more breathless than he had hoped. he tries to pry your arms apart, but you firmly keep them closed.

"c’mon," he asks once more, and there's a noticeable softness in his voice this time. "just give me a chance to help you get back up and look if you need some bandages or somethin’.”

you stay put, and geto debates whether or not to touch you again. it’s only when you mumble, "were you speechless?" that he finally places his hand on your arm, gently rubbing up and down. his touch brings a comforting sensation, soothing and reassuring. he can tell by the way your body responds to his touch, your arms dropping limp.

the corner of your face appears, revealing a scrape above your brow. getou takes note, patting your arm before standing up and reaching out a hand. you raise your head, sigh, and grab it, allowing him to pull you up.

“it’s partially your fault you know,” you say, watching as getou grabs your board.

“how so?”

“peer pressure.”

"i think it was because of your footing." he replies, lowering your board. he places his feet on it, his front one near the bolts. "this is how your foot was when you dived in."

he repositions himself, lowering his front foot. "but this is how you're supposed to do it."

he looks at you, who’s looking at his feet before meeting his gaze.

"more tips come when you agree you need me to give you lessons," he says as he flips your board into his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

he smiles as you roll your eyes. "what? you couldn't possibly expect me to help you for free."

"thirty minutes ago, you said the lessons were, and i quote, 'free of charge'."

"that was before i realized how badly you need help. it could take me ages t—“

"well," you start, and geto raises a brow at your tone. "i think that they should be for free. i mean, you are in debt to me."

"is that so?" he replies, his response more of a challenge than a question.

"uh-huh, and there's a scrape on my head to prove it," you say as you point to it.

getou snorts, “you’ll be just fine.”

"once again, there's actual skin, missing from my forehead."

“and i did that…how?”

“like i said, peer pressure.”

"whatever you say," getou says as he heads back to the sidewalk. “c’mon rookie, let’s go get you a bandaid.”

"alright, but the lessons are just the start of your deb—"

"woahh," he interrupts, looking back at you. "there's a list?"

"of course. another thing on the list is that you buy me lunch."

he looks you over before replying, “whatever you want?”

“whatever i want.”

getou nods and licks his lips, "you’re gonna have to text me your list."

you smile, “you’re gonna have to give me your number.”

he points at you, "it'll only be used for scheduling lessons and discussing my debt."

you salute him, "yes sir," and he shakes his head.

"i'll have to substitute your ‘rookie’ name for solider," getou mentions as he continues his way towards the sidewalk.

you shrug, "i’d give you a nickname but i don't even know your actual name."

he fights the urge to smile, the corners of his mouth twitching. "getou."

"is that your first or last name?"

"well we aren't on a first name basis, now are we?" he says, finally letting his lips fall and twist there way into a grin.

[tenderfxck]

Can you write for submissive alhaitham? Imagine arguing over something trivial and just pinning him down and breaking him :D but ofc the onion boy would not go down without a fight, and that's where the fun begins <3

this got longer than i expected. um.

this is switch/bottom al haitham. sorry if that wasn’t what you were looking for but uhhhh. inspiration struck my dick and here we are.

contents: switch! al haitham, bottom! al haitham, gn!reader, no reader genitals mentioned, can be read as strap or not, he gets pegged/fucked :P, overstim, brat taming, light orgasm denial, begging

edit: i woke up this morning and found some issues. i went ahead and fixed them and last night’s me will be appropriately drawn and quartered for not proofreading closely enough

it all started when he mumbled a snide remark under his breath.

you had just finished chiding him for being too brusque with some poor akademiya students when you turned to take leave of his office, determined to decompress after dealing with that proud scribe.

it seemed to have been building, this tension between you two, and al haitham was irked enough to push it a just a bit more.

“well maybe you should stop with the niceties and people might actually respect you.”

he watched as you froze in front of him, a faint smirk crossing his face as he saw your perturbed look as you turned back to meet his gaze.

“mr. scribe, do not confuse kindness for a weak will.”

this was rare.

he’s only seen this look that’s currently overtaking your facade a few times before; only when he’s really struck a chord in your arguments.

he laughs quietly, mockingly as he crosses his arms and rests his back against the grand bookcase behind his desk. “well maybe if you knew how to assert dominance instead of resorting to being an absolute pushover you could—“

he feels the push of something before he's pinned between the wall and you.

he never knew you were capable of being assertive, let alone this. his chest tightens, breath catching as he stares back into your darkening eyes.

"assert dominance, huh?"

your knee finds its place between haitham's legs, drawing the open so easily in his paralyzed state.

"dominance. . ."

. . .

“ah- ah- ah- ggh!”

archons. his voice is hoarse, yet he still can’t stop it from rhythmically crying out, a chorus of moans punctuating each harsh meeting of hips. his cock is starting to feel numb. you already rode him twice until he completely emptied himself in you, yet now your thumb still rubs at the tip, taking in every broken little sob of him saying it’s “too much.”

“wasn’t it you who said i needed to- what was it?”

you thrust into him sharply, uncaring for his worn and overstimulated body. all he can do is gasp out, cock throbbing in your grasp.

“assert dominance?”

fuck. he feels so full. his face is buried in one of the pillows on the chaise lounge of the study, no doubt probably stained with his drool by now. his knees dug into the soft, green velvet, ass poised up high, being fucked so earnestly by you.

"i'm simply demonstrating my aptitude."

you continue this steady, constant pace, fucking him flat into the sofa while all he can do is sob out such cute, broken little moans and grab helplessly at the plush upholstery.

who knew you kept something like that hidden away, ready to be used like this.

“please, t-too—ah! much. . .”

“hush. no more whining, now, just take it all, mr. scribe.”

you gave a particularly harsh thrust after, punctuating your teasing nickname before setting that harsh pace again.

he felt like he was losing his grip. his normal sensibilities were now nowhere to be found, replaced with the mind-numbing sensation of you filling him up and the urge to beg you for more, more, more.

and he hated it.

“haah. . . stop—ggh! using me you p-please, asshole. . .”

it was just too much. the hand digging into his soft hips, the other that teased his spent cock, the brutal pace of you pounding into his ass, so completely at your mercy.

“fuck. . . g-gonna cum again!” he gasps, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he sees stars cloud the edge of his vision.

your hips still and your hands are suddenly no where. the sensation abruptly dulls, leaving him unsatisfied. but the burning urge remains, twitching helplessly at the loss of stimulation.

“nonono- fuck! why. . .” he huffs sharply, thoroughly pissed off.

his cock throbbed between his legs, laying swollen and neglected against his thigh. he was leaking from the relentless teasing of your hands, only pushed farther by the lewdness of your pressing so deep into him. he was so certain he had nothing left to give but fuck did he want—need to cum again.

“we’ll i’m just a pushover to you, aren’t i? so i did just what i was told.”

you shifted ever so slightly, slipping that much farther out of his hole, al haitham sobbing at the loss of sensation.

“and stopped.”

archons, no. he was so fucking close to the edge. he needed that release. needed to be roughly fucked to completion. needed to call out your name as he came all over his spent body as you used his hole as you pleased.

fuck his pride. he needs you.

"i-i'm sorry" he keens, shame forgotten, instead heaving and writhing before you. "i'm sorry, just please- archons, ggh. . . please just-" he looks up at you above him, lashes decorated with desperate tears, wiggling those divine hips against you as he pitifully, submissively, finally begs-

"fuck me!"

a sinful smirk spread across your face as you reach you forearm around al haitham's neck, pulling him up into a headlock, his body flush with yours. his back arches so sweetly against your form as you harshly thrust yourself back in, all the way to the base. al haitham chokes out a surprised moan, eyes rolling back as he melts, completely surrendering to you.

"glady, mr. scribe."

[cybercore-creations]

All good things

Summary: Life played him for a fool again, he was stupid for thinking he'd get a single good thing

Tw: Suicide, Kidnapping, implied Stolkholm syndrome

He thought everything was okay. He thought you finally accepted this was where you were staying. Giving him a kiss every morning, helping Vincent with the sculptures, taking Jonsey on walks with Lester. You didn't scream or cry anymore. Didn't have to be locked up. Everything felt normal. A normal spouse, A normal family, A normal life.

But nothing ever went right for Beauregard Sinclair. He could never have a normal anything. Never had one normal thing in his life.

Maybe it was hopeful thinking or straight denial. Just playing pretend. But he didn't expect when he entered your shared bedroom to find you with bleeding wrists and one of his knives weakly clutched in your hands. There was no note. No closure. Not a simple thing to tell him it wasn't his fault.

You didn't have to say it, but he knew it was his fault. He shouldn't have kept you alive. Shoulda just threw you in the museum like everyone else, but he didn't. You were a spitfire from the beginning. That's what he liked about you. He never expected a victim to hot wire Lester's truck and try to run him over but there you were smiling as you pushed the old thing as fast as it could go. He laughed when you'd slammed your face onto the steering wheel when he shot out the tires. It wasn't even a sadistic one, he genuinely found it funny.

You saw the man. He was distracted, looking off into the distance, probably trying to find you but you hit the gas hard. The pedal slammed to the ground as you changed gears (He always liked someone who could drive stick) Bo heard the truck before he saw it. The loud rumble of the thing much too old to still be driven. It was like second instinct as he hopped out of the way, shooting out the tires. The truck spun out and all he heard was "FUCK" and then the slam of your forehead on the uncoushined wheel accompanied by a "ow"

His eyes drifted towards the now bloodied silver band on your finger. You were supposed to get married. You'd been in Ambrose for a little over a year when he popped the question and he remembers the bright smile before squeezing him tight. The memory would make him happy but instead he felt nothing but betrayl.

As the night draped itself over Ambrose, The two of you found yourselves perched on the rooftop of the old, weathered church. The stars above twinkled like glitter strewn across a velvet canvas. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, and the only sound that echoed through the quiet night was the faint chirping of crickets. Bo took your hand in his, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You know, Peaches, I've been thinking about a lot lately" You raised your eyebrows "And what does that thinking gotta do with Hun?" He fiddled with the ring in his pocket before taking a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he was nervous. "Our future together. How I wanna turn ya into Mx.Sinclair." "W-What?" You stuttered. "Peaches, the second I laid eyes on you went you came in for that fan belt, I was hooked. Every second since then I've been falling harder. So uh, will you be my spouse?" He pulled out the ring, hands shaking. You grabbed onto him. Squeezing him tightly, he could feel your smile against his shoulder. "Absolutely. I wouldn't want anything else."

He went soft and he absolutely hated you for it, well thats what he tried to tell himself when he ran to your side trying to find a pulse. It was obvious you'd been gone for awhile. Blood was already dried on some places and your body was cold to the touch. He was frozen in time like one of Vincent's statues as he stared before he dropped to his knees. Bo let out a scream. A noise so deep in his chest that it didn't even sound human. An animalistic sob that you could probably even hear the town over. The one good thing in his rotten life was taken from him

"I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU." He yelled. Tears now rolling down his face. "Why did you have to leave me?"

[hedwig221b]

Is there still time for a: Trick or treat?👀

Sure! The context for this piece is: Stiles had to go away from Derek for a couple of days and during it someone tried to sexually assault Stiles (they didn't get far). Then Stiles comes back.

It was 6.35 pm and Derek was already there.

Stiles’ whole body seized up at the sight of him leaning on the side of the Camaro, all dark, sexy and mysterious. He would probably be busy beating people off with a bat and spraying them with a hose to stop them from climbing him, but instead he was here. Waiting for Stiles.

Stiles gripped the handrail with a sweaty hand, and gulped. His stomach turned into a giant weirdly warm knot and his heart was pounding in his temples so hard it was making him dizzy.

The bus slowed down and stopped. With a dry mouth, Stiles stumbled out of it the minute the doors opened, barely keeping himself from falling down, and met Derek’s gaze.

Act normal, don’t run, don’t do anything weird…

Oh, Derek looked stunning. He straightened his shoulders as soon as he saw Stiles, but kept frowning. His eyes ran over Stiles’ body as if he was looking for something.

Stiles clenched his fists to keep himself from running, even though it hurt not to. He couldn’t stop himself from speeding up, though, and pushed out a weak smile instead of tears building up behind his eyelids.

“Hey,” he said, when he was close. “Have you been—”

Stiles yelped as Derek swept him in a tight embrace and lifted him off the ground. The man buried his nose in Stiles’ neck and inhaled as if starving for oxygen.

Stiles closed his burning eyes and clung to him with all his might. To feel his strong arms around the waist, the heat of his body, even though it was clad in a “bad boy” leather jacket, was heaven. Heaven!

It seemed like Stiles hadn’t seen him in centuries. So much had happened in such a small frame of time, things so despicable and vile… Stiles didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to think. And Derek’s embrace was one of those things that made him forget who he was.

Derek tensed suddenly. He nuzzled Stiles’ throat again, then gently put him down, but didn’t release from the circle of his arms.

“Everything okay?” Derek asked in a tense voice, studying Stiles’ face.

Stiles swallowed. “Yeah.” He smiled again, this time a tiny bit more genuine. “I just… missed you.”

Stupid, clingy idiot—

The corners of Derek’s mouth lifted. “I missed you, too.” He cupped Stiles’ face, stroking his thumb under one eye. “Now, breathe.”

“What?”

“Breathe, baby, come on.”

Stiles didn’t even notice how shaky his breathing become. He swallowed again and closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to get rid of black spots that had the audacity to obscure the handsome face.

As if his eagerness wasn’t embarrassing enough.

Blinking rapidly, Stiles chuckled. “It’s okay, I just couldn’t miss the opportunity to faint into your arms.”

Derek didn’t laugh. He inhaled deeply, maybe trying to subconsciously balance Stiles’ rapid breathing out, and deepened his frown.

“Something happened.” It wasn’t even a question. How the fuck did he know?

Stiles was speechless for a couple of seconds too long, but then smiled despite his heart going a mile a minute.

“Yeah, I lost my breath at the sight of you.”

“Stiles.”

“And it’s your fault for making my head spin, like whoa, dude.”

Stiles pretended to smooth out Derek’s jacket to hide his slightly shaking cold hands. Based on Derek’s unrelenting grip, the man wasn’t buying it. In fact, both of them were well aware that Derek was the only one keeping Stiles standing.

Stiles didn’t know what exactly overwhelmed him that much. Either way, it was nice to be welcomed in Derek’s embrace again.

Guess, Derek didn’t forget him after all.

Staring at Stiles’ face with gloomy suspicion, Derek, however, let the subject go. He huffed in frustration, leaned down to give Stiles a light kiss.

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled into his lips, kissed him once again and then lifted him in the air to carry over to the car. Stiles squeaked at such manhandling, but was secretly glad because he wasn’t really sure he wasn’t going to faint and crack his head open.

Derek lowered him down on the seat, closed the door, then hurried to his side.

Stiles took the moment to close his eyes and breathe. The familiar smell of Derek and the leather of the interior actually helped him calm down somewhat. He clenched and unclenched his fists to try warm them up, when Derek climbed inside as well.

“Seatbelt, baby.”

[meatriarchived]

❛ You have to live. ❜ | @lifesver

:) me when i slide over a perfectly normal-sized response- cw of course for death & guns & sad & hoyt and yknow yknow.

( it wasn’t supposed to be like this. )

air was harsh to draw in and push back out — fire burned in her lungs while they ran, aimless, along tunnels and rooms that seemed to never end. leading to large, heavy, locked doors barring their way out of this fucking hell of a maze.

( they were never supposed to be here. )

his hold on her hand, pulling her forward with him, made her stumble over her own feet every few steps. desperation was settling into him. desperate, determined, pleading for a fucking way out, a door, a lockpick, a ladder, any of the others — just fucking SOMETHING to give them both HOPE of getting out of there.

( HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. )

the puncture wound she’d gotten from the huge one — the one called thomas - when she had tried to wriggle away from him, hours before she had run into her friends and sister, before she had been restrained onto butcher block, had arm and leg carved into…

( WHY DID HE COME HERE? )

the wound, of point of hook that curved through her stomach and inward, just missing bottom of lung…it was getting to her, slowing her down, dizzying her. blotches of black and stardust clouding her vision as she felt piercing pain within her ribcage as she struggled to catch her breath. and by the time she could manage to speak, her voice was nearly wheezing out of her - strained, quiet, hoarse.

it was his name wretchedly stumbling past her lips that reached him, from frantically looking around them in every direction, mind racing and eyes studying every possible nook and cranny he could as they ran to find something, just, fucking SOMETHING-

“ lee — leland, plea- i ca- ”

his name in her voice broke his concentration, enough for him to look back over shoulder to her, beginning to ask her what was wrong, but instead stopped dead in tracks when he realized he’d been dragging her along with him — how she heaved to breathe, sweat coating her face and shoulders and collarbone, how pale she’d become. 

( he needs to get out, he needs to find the others and they all need to get out. )

curses and apologies flood out from him immediately, concern and worry sticking to his features like the sweat on his skin stuck clothes to his back, as he turned and took her by the shoulders, easing her to a crate nearby and having her sit to catch her breath, to rest for as long as they could manage to do so.

his sorries poured from him still, as she breathed raggedly, trying to focus eyes on him but everything was swimming around them — she felt nauseous, lightheaded, there were three, two, four of him distorting as he knelt beside her, trying to speak to her, waiting for responses, but all she could offer were incoherent stammers between lungs working to steady between the pain, between the heat and the chill fighting one another in her chest and skull.

( you’re slowing him down, hisses her mind. you’re going to get him killed. he needs to leave you here, save himself. you won’t make it anyways. he needs his strength to get out — not to keep worrying over or carrying you. )

he lets her stay there, on the crate, as he takes off to scour around the rooms nearby - maybe in hopes of finding a bottle of antiseptic, maybe for some kind of water and rag to wet and cool her off.

either way he kept coming back to the alcove of the tunnel they holed up in, checking in on her every other minute it seemed. he was growing more antsy with every time he peered to make sure she was still fine, worry deepening the furrow of brow when he would ask her if she was feeling better, and all he got in return was a faint nod. unconvinced. before he finally came back — empty-handed — and knelt beside her once again.

he lightly pushed strands of her hair from her face, ignoring the clamminess of her skin, holding palms to her cheeks as he looked at her, pleading for her to say something, tell him she was alright, apologizing yet again for running her for so long-

“ stop- lee, plea- please… no sorries, you- you have nothing- nothing to say sorry for… ”

her voice spilled out of her not without consequence. the pain shot right up her spine, radiating across nerves with every word, making her wince with every one she spoke, but she couldn’t listen to him apologize to her — not when she was the cause of everything, why they were even there in the first place, why they were all going through this shit,

“ you need, lee, you just have to- to go, okay? ”

her eyes lift to meet his, blurred his face quickly becomes from tears that film over pleading hazels. “ please, i’m slow— i’m slowing you down, i - i can’t, i can’t run— keep up, i’m gonna get you, get you hurt even more, ” hands reach up, taking hold of his, squeezing them lightly, reassuringly she hoped in some kind of way, and her head shook side to side as she watched his expression fall, staring back at her in horror, in shock.

“ i’m, begging you lee, please… ” maria choked out, as tears began to streak down her face, “ you have to, to get out, leave me here o - okay? ” her head gives him a small nod, as if solidifying this compromise — as if she believed he would have ever listened, like he would ever agree to such a decision, “ th - the others, they need you more, i - i don’t think i can make it — i’m sorry, for everything, all, all of th - this, but, y - you have to leave me, o - okay? please— ”

“ no. ”

a word so simple, so short — said with the most certainty — as he cuts her off, head shaking as he pulls his hands from hers. i’m not leaving you screamed from his expression, his eyes, as hands fiddled behind his neck, unclasping cross necklace from his throat and reaches over, ignoring her hands as they try to stop him, as she asks him what he’s doing.

he doesn’t answer immediately, not until he’s fought with her hands trying to place chain loop into clasp at the back of maria’s neck, as hands move to cup her face again, brows pinched together, eyes not straying for a second from hers, " i am not leaving you here alone, to die, maria. you have to live. we’re going to get out, i promise. you hold onto that for me, alright? "

before she could protest, he is knelt again with back to her, twisting to take her hand and pulls her, gently but still urgent, up off the crate. maria could feel her heart drop to her stomach.

( she knew he wouldn't listen — she still had to try- )

reluctantly she obliged him, letting him hoist her onto his back. standing with her, arms hooked under legs to keep her up as he continued through the tunnels. she may as well be useful, she thought, and look around for a sign of anything helpful...

it took some minutes, walking in silence, before maria spotted a container through the gaps of wood to their left, and pointed it out to him. " m - maybe there's something in there? " he nods as his gait kicks it up a notch to find a door, a gap — no, a crawlspace to slip through around the corner, kneeling to set her down. glancing back as sheet metal CLATTERED AND ECHOED throughout the otherwise silent tunnel. he told her to stay there, on the other side, for now. he was going to dig through the box, and then look around for a way out real quick — to call out to him if anything happens, but to take it easy for now.

maria simply nods, not willing to protest, not with how heavy the air felt at the moment.

and so she had watched him, disappearing through gap by the floor, and she found herself lowering down, to watch him through it as he made his way cautiously to the toolbox, opening and as quietly as possible dig through it.

maria watched his face, as he mutters curses and pleads to himself, watching his features as he dug as quiet as possible through random shit that probably filled that container, like the others before it. watching his expression sour as mouth moves, muttering curses under breath as he searched and dug until finally — features softened into relief, into hope, and leland turns to the crawlspace, to her peering up at him through it, and flashed her a grin — still trying to be reassuring, still trying to instill some kind of optimism for them that they truly could get out.

as he, attempting to lighten the mood, holds up lockpick in hand triumphantly and starts to proudly tell her that see? they've got this! does he realize her face has twisted into horror at something behind him, and as she shrieks for him to RUN, the butt of shotgun cracks into the back of his head, knocking him forward face first into the ground.

maria dives forward, grabbing leland's hands and tries to drag him closer toward the crawlspace as he lifts head in a daze, as charlie — 'sheriff hoyt' — steps closer, unnerving grin plastered on face as eyes linger on maria grabbing at leland, nearly sobbing and desperately trying to pull him through to her side.

charlie leans down, grabbing ankle and yanks him right back — a feeling that seems to bring clarity back to leland's face as he twists to look back and with other leg, KICKS at charlie's arm, at his chest, his face, forcing him to let go. he scrambles to hands and knees, and leland looks at maria through the crawlspace.

and in that moment of eyes meeting, of apologetic sadness flashing in his eyes, in his smile, maria stares back — horrified, as she reaches for him again, grabbing his shirt, tugging him, pleading with him to come over as he in turn rips her hands off him, softly telling her that she had to live, to please give his mother his cross when she gets out, please. i'm sorry.

and then he leans forward, and with one good shove to the middle of her chest, she's sent tumbling back into the tunnels behind her, and the clattering of sheet metal falling — closing up crawlspace between them — traps him in there, with charlie.

the wind was knocked from her as she tried to scramble back to feet, ignoring blistering pain in her chest as she grabbed at the base of metal, frantically trying to pull it back up — hearing the sounds of struggle on the other side, of pained grunts, of muffled taunts and laughter, of leland cursing the old fucker out, of him shouting for her TO JUST RUN FOR IT.

and just as she manages to pull metal back up, part of the way, can see their shadows on the floor. she hears leland stumble back, closer to her, and then a click-

and then the metal, the walls, her ears SHAKE with the sound of SHOTGUN BLAST cracking through the air.

and she sees blood spurt across the floor.

and watches one of the shadows stay still as the other stumbled, and then a loud THUD as it hit floor — just out of sight.

she froze at the silence that followed, the dread that settled in her chest. she heard footfalls, slowly walk closer, stopping just beside body. and then she heard a sneer, and a taunt, from the old man...

and maria knew, as she stared at the ground, at the blood that pooled across it, inching closer...

was leland's.

she heard the bastard looming over him, kicking at him, spitting vitriol down at unmoving body, before the amusement of it faded, and charlie's footfalls finally left the fucking room, and in the distance, hears the sound of door opening and slamming shut.

maria stayed still. afraid he would come back, yes — but mostly? afraid of what she was about to see on the other side.

but she knew she had to.

and when she finally gathered herself up, through shedding tears, trembling hands, does she take hold of the metal once more, and pulls it up, letting it jam back open before dropping to hands and knees, peering through at leland as she slowly crawled back through.

and when she could look down at his face, she simply broke.

his jaw shattered and hanging off. cheek shredded by shotgun shell. all crimson all gore and little remaining of one side of face that remotely resembled the friend she knew. if he had lived any point past the shell hitting him, surely the amount of blood that haloed around his head, soaking brown locks, seeping into fabric of his shirt, did him in.

either way, his remaining eye — at least from what she could tell — held no sign of life, no shine save for what tears had seemed to have welled in them during his stand-off with the old bastard.

and maria had no idea what to do. what to say. she couldn't carry him. she had to leave him there, in this hell — leave him to rot, leave him to these fucking people to do god knows what to his corpse...

it wasn't fair. that he laid here lifeless, and this fucking family got to live.

it wasn't fair that HE is the one dead on the ground — it should have been HER.

HE SHOULDN'T HAVE EVER BEEN HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE.

maria crumpled into herself beside him as she wept, with head placed gently against his chest, with cheek pressed against marigold embroidery, as now her own useless apologies bubbled and spilled past sobs to him — for getting him into this whole mess, for him feeling like he had to play the role of a HERO for any of their sake, let alone for her.

he didn't deserve this.

she wished the tears that soaked through threaded petals would bring him back, entice his soul to return to him...so he could go home to his mother, rather than her simply getting a cross in his place.

[lieshot]

Never wanted him? No, that wasn't true. When he was younger, he had thought the WORLD of his little brother. From the day their mom came home from the hospital with him to when he was in the military, BRAGGING about his brother's marksmanship back in the circus. 'If you think I'm a good shot, should've seen my baby brother. Able to shoot a target with arrows when he was just a kid'. But Barney had simply been BLIND back then, blinded by love and the stupid idea that blood ran thick. He never stopped to think about the beatings he could have been spared from without Clint, never thought about how he wouldn't have gotten into crime as a youth if not for him. Instead, he had pretended like everything was NORMAL when it never was and never would be.

Stop talking. Stop staying stupid shit, you dumbass! It was a thought echoed in the far corners of his mind somewhere, one almost left unheard. A faint recognition that Clint might be INTENTIONALLY pushing his buttons. It was a faint thought against the roar of swelling anger that consumed him, practically drowned out by the feelings of REVENGE. Why the hell would he care if he was being baited? This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Clint so pathetic and weak against him, his baby brother POWERLESS just like he had been when they were kids.

No, he didn't. He didn't want the pathetic kid he had known. That wasn't who he was after, it was the great Hawkeye, the hero. The one that would put up a damned FIGHT. This wasn't just about revenge, it was about showing that he was better once and for all. But Clint wouldn't stop talking, wouldn't stop FEEDING that fire of rage that burned in Barney's eyes. This wasn't what he had wanted, it was for Clint so fight back and show him just what this Hawkeye had to offer. Give a glimpse of what had kept him so fucking BUSY all these years while Barney was locked away before he put him in the ground.

❝  Then where was the body, jackass? Or were you perfectly fine thinking I was some John Doe out there, huh? All your fuckin' resources and you couldn't pull up ANYTHING? No military records, no FBI records? Tells me you didn't do anything to find me. Because you KNEW. You knew what was happenin', you just didn't give a damn because I looked bad for your image. ❞ If the roles had been reversed, Barney would have moved heaven and earth to find Clint. No body, no death, he knew that well enough. Big hotshot and Clint expected him to believe he couldn't find a single trail? It was a pathetic excuse and not one that Barney was going to buy. Liar. Instigator. Maybe Clint was hoping to get the shit beat out of him to cry VICTIM later at the hands of his 'criminal' brother. Not like Barney had asked to be dealt the hand he was, forced into the circumstances he now found himself in to try and SURVIVE as he did.

Pathetic. Fucking pathetic. Barney found himself throwing Clint away from him, his face wrinkled in DISGUST as he stared his brother down. 'Get it over with'? Barney snorted, hands finding an arrow though he left his bow strapped to his back. Twirling it in his hand, boots crossed the way to the ledge of the rooftop, practically DISMISSING any threat his brother might hold. Where was he going to run to with a leg like that? Certainly not going to be jumping down off the roof any time soon unless he wanted to crumple and bleed out down below. Fine, it he wanted to be so goddamn pathetic, Barney had other ways of picking him apart. Rake his name through the mud, cut his ties and heroic status, rip him apart piece by piece like he had PROMISED.

❝  Nice little apartment over there, ❞ he spoke, looking across the street at a quaint building. Small but clearly some people were home given how the lights gleamed in the night, a beacon in the darkness. ❝  Those fucks ripped me apart over and over and over again. Tried to erase my name while you were out playing hero. So I ain't gonna kill you, baby brother. Not today. I'm just gonna do the same to you. ❞

He had studied his brother's actions in that bunker, been forced to go over repeatedly the weapon choices and his moves to make him the perfect foil. So maybe he had picked up a few of his little trick arrows. Reaching behind him, Barney slid the bow off his back, readying the arrow. A button press on the end of it and their was the unmistakable beeps from the arrow of something being ARMED. He'd be long gone by the time anyone came looking, leaving just the other archer alone on the rooftop and who would believe him that someone else just happened to use an arrow of the same kind as him? Hawkeye gone mad, Hawkeye let an explosive arrow loose on a building, Hawkeye gone ROGUE. Who would believe him either? Barney Barton was legally dead, there was no way he survived being shot multiple times as an agent.

He raised the bow an arrow, aiming it straight for the apartment building across the way. Paying no mind to his brother, the pathetic mess of a man. He wanted to be the victim here so bad then fine, Barney would let him be the victim before others saw him as the VILLAIN. ❝  What story do you think they'll believe? That you lost your mind and shot an explosive at a building? Or that your dead brother that was a military and FBI hero rose from the grave with the exact same TRICKS as you and became a villain? ❞ It sounded like the ramblings of a mad man. His lips quirked upwards into a smirk before he released the arrow, letting it FLY.

➫ CLINT had made some dumbass choices in his life, none as dumb as this one, at least that’s the way he feels when his back is being pressed into a hard wall, little to no care taken for his injured leg. Oh, God it hurts to walk on the thing. But he does, he throws his hands up to grab wrists, and for a second, he’s dazed. He knew it was coming but he doesn’t understand. REAL brothers, huh? That part stings the most, fuck his leg or the way his head hurts now. The younger brother made it happen, the apex of anger that revealed cold harsh truth, but man does it hurt. Barney, where have you been? It echoes inside of him, so harsh and so sad. He practiced it for months, what he would say to his big brother upon his return, would he be happy or angry? As a younger man he often went with angry because he felt justified in that. But that anger had long defeated him, he wasn’t angry anymore.

He just doesn’t understand. He had no idea his army buddies and him had gotten so close, had he replaced him that long ago? With REAL brothers, brothers who could protect him, rescue him from whatever hell he had clearly gone through. And if he really thought so highly of these BROTHERS of his, doesn’t it bother him that THEY didn’t go looking for him? Why the ill intent towards his own flesh and blood? Had they really been that estranged? Sure, they had their fights, all brothers do, right? But they always made up in the end, they always held a bond that could never be broke, by time or distance. What happened this last time. Clint had waited and waited and waited by the phone, the mailbox. To no avail, he even went back to the circus once - a mistake - but he was looking FOR Barney, refusing to believe he was gone and out of his life, for months.

He glances away from Barney for a split second, frustrated not only with himself but with the situation. And he can feel that familiar heat in his throat, the kind that only happened when he was hitting his own metaphorical wall. But he wouldn’t let it happen, not now, not in front of Barney. Not after THAT.

The blonde only winced a little but he’s not struggling much, just trying to keep balance, taking weight off his leg. He feels warm in the bottom of his shoes like his socks are damp, and he just KNOWS. Barney may not have wanted to kill him in one shot but he definitely nicked something and it would have him dizzy in thirty minutes if he didn’t stop the bleeding. Clint isn’t really focused on that though, purple eyes find Barney’s and he sucks in a breath, harsh because he’s had the wind knocked out of him. This was never a fair fight, and he had made it that way. Why did he have to go and run his mouth, then? Did he WANT Barney to beat the life out of him? Maybe he did. Maybe he was tired of being this way, clueless and the last one to know anything. If this was the end for him, maybe it was some sort of poetic justice that it had to be his big brother to do it.

“I’ve always KNOWN you never wanted me, for a brother. I could never help you against dad or those carny sons of bitches. You left me as soon as you could.. found some REAL men, brothers what the fuck ever, and got a lot happier, finally found some family to protect you instead of the other way around - I KNOW. That’s why you never called me, or sent me a letter!” Clint forces a laugh, but it’s terrible and fake and he hates the way he knows it cracks with emotion. “I WISH I could have protected you all this years like you did me, whatever you went through, I never knew. I had heard nothing from you, I didn’t even get closure. Just one day, I decided you wanted nothing to do with me, and then after the years went by, I figured my brother had died and I would never know the truth of it, you wanted me out of your life so bad. I thought you were DEAD, Barney! So, fuck you. I know I’m not innocent, I know I’m not the brother you wanted or would have chosen, I KNOW. I’m stupid, but not that stupid. You weren’t the only one to SUFFER for that, I’m sorry you had to put up with me, I’m sorry you were left somewhere to rot and wish for death... I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. Of all people.”

When he feels wet on his cheek, he bites the inside of his mouth so hard he bleeds. “I thought you coming back would be the happiest day of my life, honest. I get how I messed up with you, I know it’s my fault. If I had known.. If I had known you were suffering like me, I wouldn’t have left it alone. I wouldn’t have mourned my big brother for years. So, get it fuckin’ over with and be done with me, man. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?” Clint’s hands slip from his grip and he just looks so hurt, so ashamed, so wounded.

[luminnara]

Breeding | alpha!bakugou x omega!reader 18+ ONLY

Summary: deep down, all katsuki wants is to be a father. He’ll never admit it, though.

Just a short lil somethin somethin I wanted to get out of my system!

18+ ONLY AND I MEAN IT

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, knotting, a/b/o, heat/rut

Your heats were always strong enough to kick Katsuki into a rut the second he smelled the change in your pheromones.

You had stopped taking any kind of heat suppressants when you met him, partially because you hated that they tended to make you nauseous and partially because he got grumpy whenever you brought them up. It hurt his ego a little, you figured; after all, Katsuki was about as alpha as they came, with ruts that were so wild and explosive they were practically legendary. He was a big, tough, desirable alpha, the number two pro hero, and despite what seemed like an entire fan base of omegas throwing themselves at his feet, he had chosen you.

You weren’t a hero, or even a sidekick. Your quirk didn’t really lend itself to big, valiant acts of heroism, so you had just foregone that route and chosen a much different career for yourself instead:

Fashion.

That’s actually how you had met Katsuki. You worked for his mother as an assistant, listening to her go on and on about her pro-hero son every day. At first, you just nodded and smiled, going along with whatever your boss said, but as time passed, you started to get...almost invested. You looked forward to listening to her gush about him, and whenever she managed to convince him (against his will, apparently) to grab lunch with her, she would come back carrying faint, lingering scents of campfire and marshmallows, and as time passed, she began to notice the way you tried to drink it in. 

Then, one thing led to another, and Mitsuki was introducing the two of you. The rest was history. 

Now, you had been a mated pair for quite some time, living together in a nice penthouse thanks to Katsuki’s hefty checks from his hero work. You spent most of your free time together, frequently hosting friends and enjoying their company. You had grown used to the boisterous pros your alpha hung out with, and you enjoyed having the likes of Kirishima and Kaminari around. 

Except when you were in heat, of course, and Katsuki made sure that you were completely hidden from the world, that you were his and his alone. He was possessive under normal circumstances, but with a mating cycle involved? Oh, he was incessant. 

“Who d’you belong to, baby?” he cooed in your ear as he rubbed himself against your slick entrance. 

“Y-you, alpha,” you breathed out, voice hitching. Sweat was plastering your hair to your face, your skin feverish as you whined and begged for him. 

You’d been like that all day. You had known your heat was coming up, of course, but not just because of the usual symptoms like nesting and cramps; no, you always knew exactly when you were due to begin thanks to Katsuki. He was better at keeping track than you were, going so far as to mark it on the calendar so he’d know when to take time off from hero work. 

At first, you’d told him it was fine. He didn’t need to stay so on top of things, and he definitely didn’t need to push his work aside for you. But Katsuki wouldn’t even entertain the thought of leaving you home alone to deal with your heats, and ever since you had first gotten together, he spent every single one taking care of you. He’d fuck you senseless, of course, but he also loved bringing you food and water, determined to keep you from accidentally starving yourself, and he always helped you bathe when you eventually got tired enough to take a break from his dick. 

It was incredibly domestic of him, and you were grateful to have such an attentive alpha around...because, after all, when you were in heat, there was really only one thing you could think about. 

“Alpha,” you whined, gripping the sheets. “P-please, alpha, please...”

“Want my cock?” he teased, nudging the head inside. You were dripping wet, slick running down your thighs, and as he felt how hot your pussy was, he let out a low groan. “Fuck, kitten, not gonna last long in you...”

“D-Don’t care,” you moaned, desperate to feel him stretching you. “J-Just want your cock, alpha, please...”

Well, who was he to deny you, especially when you asked so sweetly?

He rolled his hips forward, pushing into your hot core and immediately moaning. “Fuck...”

You took him so well. You always did. It was like you were made for him. 

As he thrusted in and out of you, Katsuki lowered his head, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. Taking you from behind was his favorite way to fuck, but if he kept looking at the way your ass bounced when he pounded into you, he knew he would lose it. He wanted to make you cum at least a couple times before he filled you up, but at the rate things were going, that wasn’t going to take very long. 

Whenever you were in heat, orgasms seemed to wash over you whenever your alpha was fucking you. Just the feeling of his cock ramming into you was enough to have you crying his name, more slick gushing down your thighs. There was nothing you loved more than the feeling of your alpha, and Katsuki was a very, very good alpha. 

“That’s it,” he said, breath hot against your skin. “Gimme another, baby, cum on this cock...”

He reached down, his calloused fingers finding your clit. The moment he touched it, you let out a loud whine, your pussy squeezing around him desperately. 

It was going to drive him mad. 

“T-Tell Alpha what you want,” he managed to choke out, trying to focus. 

“Fill me up,” you moaned, clawing at the sheets. “Breed me, please...want your pups...”

The thought was just too much. Katsuki lost himself, grabbing your hips roughly as his knot began to swell. Picturing you growing round with his pups, your tits heavy with milk...fuck, he just wanted to fill you up over and over again and never let you go.

So that’s what he did. 

A few weeks later, you were pacing around the apartment, nervous as all hell as you chewed your nails. It was a bad habit you had been trying to kick, but right now, you didn’t care; Katsuki would be getting home any minute, and you weren’t sure if you were petrified or ecstatic to tell him the news. 

When you heard the door open and his scent came wafting in, you nearly jumped out of your skin. 

“Hey, babe,” your mate called lazily, kicking the door shut like always before shucking his boots off. 

“H-Hey,” you squeaked, standing in the kitchen doorway. 

At the sound of your tiny voice, he froze, nostrils flaring as he took in your anxious scent. “What’s wrong?”

“I...uh....” you gulped, looking at the floor. You were too scared to make eye contact, even with the man you loved so much. 

“Babe?” he asked, approaching you. His normally rough voice was softer now, red eyes full of concern. 

“Remember my last heat?” you asked, daring to glance up at him. Fuck, he was so big...you were starting to understand why other alphas were so scared of him. 

“Course.” he chuckled. “How could I forget? You were so fuckin’ wet, baby...”

“Y-yeah, well...um...” you turned, heading for the kitchen counter. You didn’t know how to use your words anymore. Maybe showing him would be easier. 

Katsuki followed at your heels, reaching for your wrist. He managed to catch you, but not before you grabbed something and spun back around to face him, the item hidden behind your back. 

“You have to promise not to be mad.” you said, voice wavering slightly. 

“I’m never mad at you, babe.” he growled. “But you’d better fuckin’ show me what you’re hiding.”

Nodding quickly, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your hand out towards him. 

When you didn’t hear anything, you peeked up at him. 

He was staring, his eyes wide. His gaze was focused on the pregnancy test in your hand, chest rising and falling with every breath. 

You immediately panicked. 

“I-I’m sorry!” you blurted, backing up until you hit the counter. “I-I didn’t expect this to happen, it never has before, I don’t know what--”

“Omega.” he interrupted, chest vibrating with a loud purr. “Is that test positive?”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. 

Then, the widest smile you’d ever seen lit up his face, and he was sweeping you off your feet. 

“You’re pregnant?” he asked, spinning you around. 

“Y-yes,” you answered, chest still tight with anxiety. 

“Finally.” he set you back down on your feet, his arms still tight around you. “Been waitin’ so long...”

“Wh-what?” you asked, wiping at your tears. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he scoffed. “Why the fuck would I be mad? I’ve always wanted pups with you. Just didn’t know if you were ready or not.”

“Oh.” you let out a laugh as your chest finally loosened up a bit. “I guess I am...”

“Hey.” he leaned his forehead against yours, that purr still rumbling in his chest. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re mine forever, ‘n don’t you fuckin’ forget that.”

[birdiefw]

LET ME SHOW YOU | SAM WINCHESTER [SMUT 18+]

Summary: Having been turned on all day, you decide you can’t wait any longer and lead somewhere more private.

Warnings: swearing, teasing, oral (female receiving), impala sex (unprotected but y’all can pretend otherwise)

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written an imagine, and technically this one is meant for my Sam Winchester fic on Wattpad so it wasn’t intended to be an imagine, but I figured it could work as one so here it is lmao. Also, destiel is pretty much implied in this, but you’re free to see Dean and Cas however you want. I also edited this, but I apologize for any errors or if it says her/she/birdie (who is my spn oc) instead of you/your/etc!

You felt like your entire body had been set on fire without warning. Your skin was incredibly warm as you tried to remain still, feeling like your body was getting hotter and hotter despite how cold it actually was inside the bunker. Your hair was pushed back so it would stop clinging to your neck/sides of your face, your mind unable to focus on your laptop that was placed in front of you as something else was taking over all of your senses.

You were very aware of the fact that you weren’t alone in the library, twisting and pursing your lips together as you tried to ignore the rampant thoughts that kept popping into your mind every time your gaze flickered over to Sam. But, every time your eyes fell on your husband, you couldn’t help but admire his stunning features, picturing all of the sides you’d seen of him in your many years of being a couple—some of which only made the ache between your legs increase.

You bit her lip when you looked away from him again, trying to force the thoughts aside; you desperately hoped you’d be alone soon.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up from your laptop that had started dim from your lack of actually doing anything on it in the last few minutes, eyes slightly widened as you looked across at Castiel who was sat in front of you, his bright blue eyes pinned to your features.

“What?” you asked, glancing aside at Sam and Dean who were both staring at you with confusion much like Castiel.

“We were askin’ if you found anything,” Dean said, noticing how your laptop had dimmed.

“Oh, uh, I—no. Not yet, anyways,” you answered with a heavy sigh, briefly glancing towards Sam before your eyes swiveled to Dean and then Castiel.

“Are you feeling okay?” Castiel wondered, curiously tilting his head at you. “You don’t look like you’re feeling well.”

“Thanks, Cas,” you sarcastically said, giving him a fake smile as you folded your arms over your chest and crossed your legs. “I can always count on you for a pick me up, can’t I?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, a faint frown appearing on his lips.

Sam’s lips turned into a frown, noting that you did look rather pale compared to usual. You looked slightly sweaty, eyes looking more dark than normal. You easily noticed the change in Sam’s expression, quickly shaking your head as you closed your laptop; there was no point in keeping it open, anyways. “I’m fine,” you firmly told him, giving him a look when you saw him shoot you a similar look.

“You sure?” Dean asked, curiously eyeing you from the seat next to you.

“Yes, I’m sure, Dean,” you said, flashing a perky smile on your lips as if it would assure the three men.

Dean shook his head with a small smile appearing on his lips, closing his own laptop. He could tell something was off with you, but knowing Sam wouldn’t let it go, he decided against pushing the subject. “Alright, whatever you say, Y/N,” he said. Then his eyes flickered over to Castiel, nudging his head to the side as he started to stand up from the table. “Come on, you still gotta finish watchin’ Seven.”

Castiel warmly smiled, looking at Sam and you as he stood up from the chair. “Night, guys.”

“Night, Cas,” you and Sam said in unison, smiling back at the angel.

Dean tucked his laptop under his arm, silently nodding towards his brother and you as he waited for Castiel. You and Sam quietly watched them walk away, a grin lingering on your lips until they were gone.

You let out a heavily sigh and leaned your head back, puffing out your cheeks. Sam stood up from his own chair and headed over to you, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. You jumped at the sudden touch, looking at him with wide eyes. “Fuck,” you whispered, letting out a breath of relief as you realized it was only Sam, “You almost sent me into cardiac arrest.”

Sam softly laughed, innocently raising his hands as he sat on the table, peering down at you. You shook her head as you stood up, adjusting Sam’s flannel that you wore over a pair of leggings, pushing the sleeves up to your elbows. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, babe?” he asked, genuine concern etched on his features as you stood in front of him. “You’re pretty warm.”

You let out a sigh, glancing around to make sure Dean nor Castiel were around at the moment. “I-I’m not sick, I promise,” you said, looking at your husband. “I’m just. . .”

Sam softly gazed at you when she lowered you head, warmly smiling as he lifted his hand to you chin to make you look at him again. “Just what?”

You coyly smiled, a thought suddenly occurring to you. “Let me show you.”

The corners of Sam’s lips tweaked up into a smirk, finally noticing the look that was swirling around in your eyes. ‘I should’ve known,’ he thought to himself, already feeling himself start to grow hot with anticipation. You eagerly took his larger hand in yours, tugging him in the opposite direction of their shared bedroom.

You giddily giggled as you hurried down the narrow halls of the bunker, tugging Sam towards the garage with a devilish smirk appearing on your lips, stealing a glance behind you to make sure that Dean nor Castiel hadn’t left the room for some reason. “You don’t think they have plans to actually go anywhere tonight after their movie, do you?” You asked Sam, carefully walking with your back facing the spacious garage while your intense gaze was pinned to Sam as your warm hand still clutched his in your own.

“God I fuckin’ hope not,” Sam breathlessly replied, eyes lighting up with a rush of excitement as you guided him over to the Impala.

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as the two of you came up to the side of the Impala, standing beside one of the back doors as you fully faced Sam, body even warmer than before.

“Well, even if they do. . .” You softly said, trailing one of your hands up one of Sam’s buff arms, fingertips trailing up until they reached his stubbly jaw. Your eyes flickered to his, seeing his usually bright eyes had darkened a few shades as they took in your features. Your smirk instantly widened, peering up at Sam. “They’ll just have to wait.”

“Is that so?” Sam asked in a low tone, taking a few steps closer so you were pressed up against the Impala, your chests almost pressed together as he stood in front of you with his hands softly caressing your hips. “Well, how much longer are you gonna make me wait?”

“I don’t know yet,” you teased, running a few of your fingers along his bottom lip. “You were teasing me all day pretty much with your soft hair, your kissable lips. . .”

Sam darkly chuckled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes as your words made his excitement increase. “Then let me make it up to you.”

You leaned forward in response, Sam quickly bending his head down to connect you lips when she moved towards him. One of your hands automatically went to his shaggy hair, gently tugging on it to elicit a low groan from Sam. You smiled with approval, feeling one of his hands go to your lower back and press your body up against his while the other went to the back of your head, fingers combing through your hair. Your soft lips parted as the kiss became more needy, giving Sam access to explore your mouth like his life depended on it.

Sam’s hand moved from your back and to the handle off to the side, quickly finding it and pulling it open with a grunt. “After you,” Sam panted.

You excitedly grinned and crawled into the backseat, seeing Sam steal a glance around the garage to make sure no one was around before climbing inside as well and closing the door behind him. You eagerly leaned forward, connecting your lips once more as your fingers started to undo the buttons of the flannel Sam wore. Sam grinned into the kiss, assisting you with removing the shirt before carelessly tossing it to the side. Then he broke apart from the kiss, discarding the plain gray shirt he’d been wearing underneath as you started to undo the buttons of the flannel you had on.

Sam reconnected your lips just as she finished unbuttoning it. You giggled, going to shrug it off until one of Sam’s hands stopped you. “Seeing you in my clothes drives me absolutely crazy. . .I wanna see you come undone with it on.”

You let out a shaky breath at his words, lowering your hands. You bit her lip and cupped his cheeks in your clammy hands, firmly kissing him. “I love you,” you told him.

Sam grinned, giving you a quick peck in return. “I love you too,” he murmured, one hand trailing down your sides, stopping along the side of your thigh as his other hand guided you to scoot back more and lay against the back of the leather seat. “And, I wanna show you. . .just how. . .much,” he gruffly said, pecking your cheek, nose, and chin as he spoke.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked in a deep breath, feeling Sam kiss along your neck. “God. . .” You whispered, involuntarily bucking your hips up as one hand gripped his hair again.

“Someone’s eager,” Sam murmured against your hot skin, his hand still caressing her thigh, setting her entire body on fire even more with just a simple touch.

“Please, Sam,” you whimpered, catching his gaze.

Sam slowly moved down your body, reaching for the hem of your leggings. “Wearing a skirt today woulda made this a lot easier,” he said, causing a laugh to erupt from you as he started to tug down your skin tight leggings. You lifted your hips, helping him to discard both your leggings and panties as quick as possible. “But, they don’t show off your ass as well as these do.”

You bit her lip at his words, your heart starting to beat even faster as Sam settled himself between your legs. The corner of his lips were pulled up into a smirk, easing your legs apart with one leg settling over his shoulder and the other over the seat with your foot planted on the ground. Sam’s gaze remained locked on yours as he scooted closer, blowing on you gently. Your head instantly fell back, a gasp escaping your lips.

“I really was turnin’ you on without even touching you, huh,” Sam said, one hand caressing your inner thigh. You merely whimpered in response, lifting your head just in time to see him dive in to your center.

A loud moan escaped your lips as he expertly dragged his tongue through her heat, feeling Sam slip one arm under your leg, keeping her close. “Shit, Sam!” You gasped in pure pleasure, lips parted and brows furrowed as you sat up on her elbows, breathlessly watching him move against you core; he knew just what to do to get you even more turned on and screaming his name. He looked up at you, groaning against you when you bit her lip and leaned your head back again. “Oh, fuck!”

He swirled his tongue through your center, circling around your clit as he fastened his pace. “You’re being more quiet than usual,” Sam said in between licks, causing you to groan at the uneven pace. “Don’t want Dean or Cas to hear how gorgeous you sound?”

“I—please, Sam,” you gasped.

“What was that?” Sam asked, lightly licking at you heat.

You panted, looking at him with desperation. “Please, Sam! Fuck!”

Sam flattened his tongue against your center to give you exactly what you wanted, seeing you close your eyes in pleasure. He got a steady movement, going faster when you started to moan louder. One of your hands reached down, tightly gripping his hair as you moved against his mouth. Sam moaned against you, nearly getting off just by watching you fall apart with only the use of his skillful tongue.

“Holy fuck,” you moaned, eyes screwed shut as you felt herself getting closer and closer. Sam could tell too, fastening his pace as you tightened your grip on his hair, a loud moan erupting from your parted lips as you arched your back. “Sam! Shit, I-I—”

“I got you, baby,” Sam said, knowing you were incredibly close. “I got you.”

With those words, you came against his mouth, your loud moans filling the Impala as Sam continued to suck and lick you through your orgasm. Your grip on his hair loosened while your hips stilled against his mouth, chest rising and falling quickly as your eyes remained closed with complete bliss.

“Holy fuck,” you said after a few moments, opening your eyes when you felt Sam crawl on top of you. You wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing him in for a sloppy kiss without a second thought. He eagerly kissed you back, lowering his body so you were closer together while one of his hands traveled down between your legs.

You gasped against his mouth when his fingers slipped through you, opening your eyes to look at him. “I think it’s your turn now,” you told him, going to reach down to his pants until he shifted to sit up.

“Later,” he breathed out, starting to undo the buttons of his pants. “I just need you.”

You sat up as well, Sam’s flannel sticking to her skin even more than before, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. Your hands quickly moved to help Sam, giggling with joy as he removed his pants and boxers, kicking them off into the floor. Your eyes flickered up to his again, biting your lip. “Can I be on top?”

“Fuck yes,” Sam eagerly said, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to his lap without a moment to waist.

You giggled again, looking down at his hard member as you straddled his waist. “Someone sure is excited.”

“Hard not to be when I just watched you get off on my tongue,” Sam replied in a gruff voice, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you, not just with lust, but also pure love.

You whimpered at that, reaching down and giving him a few strokes. You watched Sam’s eyes flutter close at your gentle touch, lips parting with a breathy moan; you got turned on by his reactions just as much as Sam did with you. You shifted slightly, lining yourself up with him before slowly sinking down.

Your and Sam’s moans filled the Impala at the feeling, Sam’s hands automatically going to grip your waist as he filled you up. Sam bit his lip with anticipation, waiting for you to make sure it was okay to move before he did anything. You leaned forward slightly, planting your hands on Sam’s chiseled chest, starting to move against him as you locked eyes with him.

“Fuuuuck,” Sam groaned, his nails digging into your hips as you slid up and down. “Just like that, baby.”

“I’ve wanted to do this since this morning,” you breathlessly admitted, fastening your pace. You and Sam moaned again, your nails scratching at his chest as you moved your hands up and down his body. Sam loudly groaned at the sensation, thrusting up to meet your movements, making you cry out with pleasure.

“God, I love you so fucking much,” Sam panted, his eyes rolling back as you leaned down and gave attention to his neck. “So fucking perfect.”

You moaned as well, connecting your lips in a messy kiss while Sam’s thrusts got faster. “Fuck. . .” You whispered, “I love you too. . .so so fucking much.”

“Shit, Y/N,” Sam moaned as you nipped at his dampened neck, hands running up and down his abs.

“Faster, baby,” you whispered into his ear, heart beating faster as you and Sam got closer.

Sam grunted, tightening his grip on you as he picked up the pace. You started to lose her own rhythm, your hips shaking as you rode him, your orgasm growing closer and closer. “Sam, I’m. . .”

Sam lurched forward, pulling you further into his lap with your bare chest pressed against his own, the flannel pushed back and exposing your entire chest to him. His hips moved up into you as he hungrily kissed you again, his tongue dominating yours while his hands moved to cradle the back of your head.

Sam grunted, his forehead resting against yours as the Impala rocked back and forth, no doubt making it obvious what was going on inside if anyone were to enter the garage.

You meekly whimpered, feeling the knot in your stomach getting closer to finally snapping. “Sam!” You loudly moaned, many swear words and the repeat of his name getting drowned out as Sam pressed his mouth to yours again. Your hands went to his cheeks, holding him closer while Sam’s orgasm got closer and his fingers gently tugged on your hair. His hips smacked against yours faster, the sound filling the steamy Impala alongside your loud moans. You clenched around him as you came, making Sam groan into your mouth as he came seconds after you.

You pulled apart after a few moments, resting your clammy foreheads together as you finally started to catch your breaths, you still sat in Sam’s lap and his hands in your hair.

You warmly smiled as you locked eyes with Sam, his lips curling into a grin as his dimples poked out as well. “Maybe I should tease you more often, huh?” Sam asked.

You softly laughed, playfully rolling your eyes as you moved your hands to rest them on his damp shoulders. “You could, but two can play at that game, babe.”

“Is that a challenge?” Sam taunted.

You playfully narrowed your eyes, running a hand up and down one of his arms like you were in deep thought. “No, because you and I both know you would lose the first day.”

Sam breathed out a laugh, tilting his head. “Says the one who almost couldn’t wait till we were alone.”

You simply shrugged, a small smirk starting to appear on your lips. “Today I couldn’t,” you said, gently pushing him back down on the seat. Sam’s eyes slightly widened, brows raising. “But you just looked extra sexy and handsome today. You, on the other hand, can hardly keep your hands to yourself when you’re horny.”

“That’s not true,” Sam protested, going to speak again until you moved your hips, causing his head to fall back with pleasure.

You proudly smirked at his reaction, peering down at him. “Tell you what—let’s go again, and if you manage not to touch me, we can do that challenge.”

Sam breathed out a faint laugh, smirking back at you. “As long as you’re okay with not touching me. But, you and I both know that’ll be even harder for you than me.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said, moving your hips again.

Sam let out a shaky breath, gazing up at you as his hands returned to your hips. “Yeah, we will.”

———

A/N: Feel free to leave some feedback or send me some requests!

[slasherhaven]

I just found your account, so hi!! Could I request some HCs for slashers (whatever you’re feeling up to) with an s/o who struggles with homicidal thoughts? Thank you in advance! 💖

The Slashers with a S/O who struggles with homicidal thoughts:

Thomas Hewitt

Super protective. He doesn’t like it at all. He will never feel any differently towards you, he’ll always adore you, but it’s dangerous, you could get hurt and he can’t risk that. But if you decide that this is something that you just have to do, he will try to understand. When the next group rolls in, you can have one to handle, but he isn’t leaving your side just in case something goes wrong. He’s also just there for you if you need some support and comfort when you’re dealing with these horrible thoughts.

New duties. If you go through with the kill and decide this is something you can keep doing, Hoyt is foing to use it against you and tell you that you can help deal with vitcims now. But, on the positive side, Thomas is less reluctant to have you down in the basement with him. And that means more time with your man!

Michael Myers

A little too encouraging. Michael knows you and he knows that you aren’t like him. But if you’re having these thoughts, maybe you understand him more than he thought. He doesn’t care if you kill someone, it won’t change how he feels about you. He’s an enabler.

Date night? Would you like him to take you with him one night? You’ll be able to get a better feel for what it’s actually like to see someone die and to kill someone. He’ll even let you use his knife if you want to give it a go. This is all a very generous offer coming from Michael sooooo do with that what you will.

Jason Voorhees

He is worried about you. Now, he isn’t a hypocrite. He knows that he couldn’t judge you for your thought when he does all the things that he does, but he’s worried about your well being. If the thoughts distress you, he wants to help you. If you plan on going through with some of those thoughts, he’s worried you’ll get hurt.

A controlled environment. He might not like it but if this is something that you really need to do, he will try to be supportive. You can help him defend the camp. You can indulge your thoughts where you are safe, where he can watch and protect you. 

Brahms Heelshire

You? His sweet nanny? He’s more surprised than anything. You’re so kind and sweet to him. How could somebody so caring and nurturing have these kind of thoughts.

You aren’t alone. His thoughts are...different. But we all know that he isn’t the most mentally stable, he has darker thoughts. He can be violent and lash out but never with you. He trusts that your thoughts won’t ever be directed at him. That the two of you can share your struggles and help each other cope. Neither of you have to be ashamed around each other.

Bo Sinclair

Feels more understood. He would never admit it but he always wonders what you think of what he does, if it bothers you or not. Maybe you understand him and his own struggles more than he thought. Was this why you don’t judge him for what he does?

Well, if you ever want to give him a hand. Bo is open to letting you help him with the people who try to pass through the town. He’s still very careful with it, not wanting you to be put in any unnecessary danger. He’ll be right by your side, holding your hand through it all. If you want to back out at anytime, you let him know and he’ll take care of it. After that, he will keep you away from all this nasty stuff in the future.

Vincent Sinclair

He had conflicting thoughts. He’s not going to judge you too hard, he’s just worried about you. He knows that what he and his brothers did wasn’t good but he thought that you were...but you had these thoughts so what was he supposed to think? Is that why you seemed so comfortable here? Did he not have to be ashamed about the things he did...at least not with you.

You can be his assistant. He’s always tried to keep you away from the workroom when he had a victim in there but maybe you would enjoy being there with him. He’d make the offer, it’s totally up to you to accept. He reminds you multiple times that you can leave whenever you want if you decide that these these are best kept just as thoughts.

Lester Sinclair

Who is he to judge? It’s not like he and his brothers are upstanding members of society and who doesn’t have their vices? You’re still you and he still loves you. If you just need some acceptance and comfort, he’s on it. If you maybe want to explore those thoughts, he’ll be there for you.

He’ll take you into town. Where better than to explore all these thoughts than Ambrose? You can talk to Bo about helping out. Next time a group of unsuspecting people come by, Lester will take you with him and you can be his partner. He just wants to help you in whatever way you need to to.

Bubba Sawyer

Are you okay?! Bubba could never judge you for your thoughts considering what his family does but he’s worried about the thoughts upsetting you. If they do upset you, he will be eager to comfort you. If you aren’t upset by them and would actually like to act on them, he’ll be supportive but silently fretting about you being in a dangerous situation.

Officially a Sawyer! If you do act on these thoughts, the whole family is supportive of you. Look at you, you’re taking on their traits, you’re helping to provide for the family. Even Drayton considers you family at this point.

Billy Lenz

Relates to your struggle. Billy understands, he’s had some...concerning thoughts as well, but you know all about that. He would never judge you for this because you had always been so accepting to him.

Supporting each other. You have been a miracle to him, replacing those thoughts with something more positive. You make those thoughts fade and he hopes that he can do the same for you. No matter what, the two of you are there to support each other when you’re struggling, you taught him that.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Will take you to the hotel. You know of the place but have only visited rarely. It’s dangerous and not for the faint of heart, so he likes to keep you away from it. But with this new information, he’s more willing to get you familiar with it. He’s surprised by your confession but in the end knows he can’t be too judgmental, he’s actually interested in how this will play out.

Eases you into it. He’ll show you around, show you his collection, show you a victim he is already holding. He’ll let you watch him work, reminding you that if you want to back out, you have to say so. He can’t help if you don’t speak up. But once you’re standing at the table, knife in hand, him right behind you, he reminds you that it’s now or never. Do you really have the stomach for it?

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Supportive. He’s not going to freak out or think differently of you. This is interesting and he wants to explore it further with you. Unless the thoughts distress you, then he will worry and he won’t push you to act on them.

Accompanying him on his ‘business trip’. If you do want to act on those thoughts, you’re coming along with him this time. Even if you normally travel with him, you’ll be playing a part in his ‘work’ this time. He’ll even let you watch some of his tapes so you can prepare yourself for what you’re going to be experiencing. If right then you decide that you can’t do this, that’s perfectly fine. But if you’re still okay to go through with this, Jesse will bring you a victim himself, subduing them so that your first kill can be easy. He doesn’t want to risk your wellbeing at all. He’s right there the whole time and you can back out at any moment, he’ll just deal with them instead.

Otis Driftwood

Want to give it a try? It’s a genuine question, not one to pressure you. Otis knows that this isn’t for everyone and that homicidal thoughts are very different to actually killing somebody. If you want to explore it, he’s super supportive, but if not that’s fine too. He’s oddly...patient about the whole thing.

Proud. If you go through with the kiss and it turns out that you enjoyed it, he is just so proud of you. Look at you, fitting right into the family. It also reaffirms to him that you are happy with him. You’re fucked like the rest of the family, still better than him, but it looks like the two of you were just made for him.

Baby Firefly 

What are you waiting for?! Why did you say something sooner! The two of you could have been killing together all this time! She wants to hear every grizzly detail of your thoughts. She is the biggest enabler but reluctantly understands if you don’t want to actually make these thoughts real. But you know where to find her if you change your mind!

Victim shopping. Baby will make a night of it. The two of you heading out with the intention of bringing a victim or two home. She wants you to pick your first kill, this is a big deal! And if you decide you don’t want to kill anyone, you can help her bring her choice back.

Yautja (Predator)

Isn’t quick to judge. His race is known for being ultimate predators, killers, so he’s not going to demonise you over some thoughts. Talk to him, help him understand what you’re struggling with, he is here to help you and support you.

Will train you. If you wish to explore these thoughts in a more...realistic setting. He will help you. He’ll teach you how to focus those thoughts on something more worthy, how to hunt worthy kills and avoid hurting anyone who’s innocent. Will teach you their honour code and how killing can both bring you honour or bring you dishonour. He’ll guide you through it all.

[colacorvus]

Little bit of context/backstory: since Charlie always seems to be blinded by the void with just completely spacing out. I took this and viewed it that Charlie is weaker than Ted. The Void goes to possess Charlie first to try to get closer to Ted in a extremely fucked up way. Then Ted allowing himself to be the vessel to make sure that Charlie is safe

---------

The sounds of skin tearing filled the room, bones snapping around. Something was tearing into a person and forcing themselves in. The laugh was psychotic, loud and proud. But the voice still cracks, holding something back.

This is all Charlie can hear as he is forced to lay on the ground, being too weak on getting up. Just watching as this thing that has once consumed him, being transferred to a friend that he held close. Someone that did nothing but try to help no matter how much the entity took control. That tried their best to keep them away from said entity to keep them safe.

Ted doesn't deserve this.

Charlie looks up to the entity taking over Ted's body. He can't do anything as Ted's body drops not so far from him. He tries to push himself up, to try to reach out to him and help in some way. Charlie's arms midway on pushing himself up. His body feels heavier than before. So much heavier. He tries to pull himself closer but the arm feels heavy to even push. Is this what dying feels like?

The body ahead of him slowly starts to rise, being stiff with their movements. Slowly raising and still keeping the laugh, voice no longer cracking as the tears begin to fall. The smile was still there, it began to stretch past the limits. Ted seems to be wincing at the edges of his smile starting to tear. The tear was normal until it began to turn into an inky black.

That's not his friend anymore.

Ted turns to face Charlie on the ground, trying to catch his breath to speak. "Haha! Thank you for getting me in the body I'm supposed!" He crouched down to the other man's level. "Aren't you happy that I finally left you? That's what you've been begging for."

Charlie tries to get up again, to just be able to get up instead of laying on the cave floor. "Let...him go-" He is only able to get a foot up before feeling the earth drag him back down.

Ted's smile didn't leave as he tilted his head to Charlie, who can do nothing but glare. "And you want me to go back?" Charlie flinched back, then heard laughter once again. "Hah! That's what I thought!" Charlie kept his head low and Ted scoffed. "Aww you should at least look at me while I'm talking"

The familiar feelings of vines wrapped around him, he tried to struggle out as they brought him up to stand. The vines force his posture to stand up tall before it releases him. Charlie looks down and slightly raises his hands, actually having some strength to raise it but not enough to raise a leg. "How did...how did you-?"

"-do that?" Ted finished the question, he raised himself up. "It's easy! You just never let go of a puppet on a string!" The cracks in the cave start to get a slight blue light before it immediately goes out.

Charlie looks confused at him, trying to shake off the faint feeling of vines. "I'm not your puppet." His voice was shaking as he was trying to keep some sort of confidence. Ted just smiled down at him, being amused by the statement. "I-...I can get him out." A complete forced smile at the end. Can he really?

Ted lets out a small hum, "Okay. Go ahead. Try"

Charlie got a sudden energy boost, his body no longer feeling heavy. He turned to run out of the cave, he needed to get someone to help with freeing Ted. There needs to be someone that knows how to do something. He's getting closer to the entrance and he is starting to stumble. He continues to push himself till he is out of the Palcove. Air refuses to pass by his lungs, legs are starting to get weaker. He drops on the ground right outside, gasping for breath and trying to stop the coughing.

Charlie felt vines grow around his legs and he tried to move. Just to be dragged back inside while hearing a laugh get louder. "Another tip about puppets, never have their strings too long. They might get lost while trying to run away."

Charlie can't pick himself up, he is stuck on the ground again and being forced to just glare. "Let...let us go."

"Do you want me to fully let you go? To fully leave you? Wanna see what will happen?" The smile on Ted's face just continues to grow. Charlie's condition gets worse, with the feeling of his body starting to burn and melt. The bones start to feel so fragile that if he even moves an inch, it will shatter. He tries to gasp out for breath but knowing every time that he breathes out, it won't be coming back.

He's dying and can't do anything about it.

Charlie tries to grab something, anything, to stop some of the pain. But the movement is stiff as any harsh movement will make his body shatter. His lungs feel on fire as he's just trying to survive with the little bit of air he has left.

The cracks beneath him start to glow a light blue. Charlie sits up on his knees and goes into a coughing fit as the air finally returns to him. The laughing returns as Ted crouches down to his level. "Do you still want me to leave?" Charlie shook his head as he tried to rub his neck. "Look, you're useful. I wouldn't want to get rid of such a good tool." He grabs Charlie's chin and harshly lifts it up. "Every good ruler needs a good guard by their side. Stay by my side, Charlie? Protect your friend before the others try to kill him?"

The way that it said his name made a chill go down his spine. He can feel the moss grow on his back again. Does he really have a choice in the matter? Maybe if he can stay by their side long enough, he can figure something out. Something to actually save them both instead of dying. Charlie nods, "I'll stay with you...just don't let me die."

Ted's smile grew a bit softer before raising up and walking by. "Good, we can get rid of any threat in the morning. I'm sure you're tired."

Charlie's eyes widened before turning back, "Wa-wait what do you mean by getting rid of?"

Ted just stays standing with his arms behind his back. He doesn't need to face him to know how big the smile has gotten. "We will need to get rid of the competition and anyone that will hurt me. You did want to protect your friend, right?" Charlie doesn't respond, they both know the answer. Ted lets out a light chuckle, "I thought so. Lets get some rest, my host is tired and I'm sure you are too."

Ted walks away and into their shared rooms. Leaving Charlie on the ground, kneeling to no one but knowing who he must leave his devotion to. B-but it's fine. He can free them and everything will be back to normal

...right?

See what this is is HORRIFYING. But also cool as shit I love it

[crystalirises]

Phil is a famous and powerful Vampire Hunter with three sons, Wilbur, Tommy and Techno. One night Wilbur gets kidnapped by a vampire, he gets turned into a vampire but for years he has hope his father or twin would come to save him. His family never comes, he eventually gives up on hope and around this time he falls in love with another Vampire named George. They want to have a kid but they can't make one themself, so they surprise adopt Fundy. One of the vampire hunters SBI comes to help and everything goes downhill from here.

also thanks for the great writing

Y O U

I don't know who you are, but I love this prompt so much. Like, I want to confess right now that I actually have like... four (???) vampire AUs that all concern Georgebur + Sondy. I just haven't written them cause well, I just talked about them with a friend and 'm lazy to write XD.

But this prompt. YESSSSSSSSSSSS.

It literally just has everything. Wilbur's daddy issues and abandonment issues. Georgebur. Fundy. Surprise Adoption (Kidnapping). Vampires.

Love it.

Anyway, warnings: Blood, Violence, General Vampire Warnings, Possible Kidnapping, Mentions of Death, Abandonment Issues, Grief, and Suicidal Themes

Hope you like this!

“Eret? W-wha…? It’s the middle of the fucking night, man!”

Wilbur rubbed at his eyes, his friend’s hunched silhouette illuminated by the window.

They didn’t respond, and Wilbur could hear alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind.

He climbed out of bed, taking quick notice of the empty bed on the other side of the room. Techno and Phil must be out. Wilbur tried not to let it hurt him as much, his attention focused on his best friend who hadn’t made a single twitch or move ever since they’d climbed through his bedroom window. Worry settled in his gut, a heavy weight settling over his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stepped closer, the faint scent of metal piercing through the air. Wilbur nearly gagged, pressing a hand to his mouth and nose. Blood. He glanced down at the carpeted floor, goosebumps running down his skin as he gazed at the dark pool that was forming beneath Eret.

“ERET!” Wilbur gripped his friend by the shoulders, “What happened?!”

“Wil…?” Eret practically collapsed against him, hands clinging to the back of his shirt like their life depended on it. Underneath the darkness of the room, Wilbur could hardly look Eret in the eyes. Eret shook within his hold, almost like they were struggling against some force. “N-n-no!”

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?! Who did this?!” Wilbur pulled Eret away, but their head was leaned against his shoulder, their breath cold against his neck. It was difficult to see, but after a moment, he found the source of Eret’s pain. There was a dagger lodged against their back, just a few inches off Eret’s heart. He felt a panic course through him. Should he fucking pull it out?! He wasn’t a fucking healer, what the fuck was he supposed to do?! “Shit, shit, shit, fuck, um… I…”

His fingers grasped at the leather hilt, his mind screaming at him to do something, anything! Wilbur took a moment to listen to Eret’s breathing, their shallow breaths were mere puffs against his skin. He could feel Eret’s blood between his fingers, somehow, the blade hadn’t stopped the bleeding. Wilbur made a choice. He wouldn’t let his best friend bleed out. “I’m so sorry, Eret.”

Wilbur pulled the blade, wincing at the squelch of flesh and blood that resonated through the room. It was easy to ignore, since Eret let out the most unholy screech that Wilbur had ever heard in his life. He shuddered at the scream, the pain within its shriek. He swore that it sounded like— Eret collapsed against him, unconscious, but their breath had regained normalcy. Wilbur hesitantly held onto them, attention turning to the blade that he’d pulled from his best friend. Their village wasn’t the safest place, but one could usually walk around without being stabbed.

He held the dagger, blood still sticky against the skin of his palm. Wilbur brought the blade closer, eyes narrowing. It was a blade made of pure silver, the hilt dyed pink with a pink ribbon tied to one end. A chill ran down his spine. He adjusted the dagger, looking at the bottom of the hilt. A silver crow stared back at him. It was his dad’s symbol, but it was Techno’s blade.

He dropped the blade just as a searing pain tore through his throat.

He screamed, sharp teeth biting deeper into his skin.

Jagged claws gripped at the back of his shirt, an inhumane growl tearing through the air as Eret suddenly pushed him to the ground, holding him still as they continued to feed on his blood.

His mind turned to fog, but he could hear the slam of a door in the distance… 

“WILBUR!” Someone screamed. But he was dragged away. And then there was nothing.

---

“I’m sorry…”

It was the first thing Eret had told him once he’d woken up, and they’d been saying it ever since.

“Sorry doesn’t change me back, Eret. Sorry doesn’t make me any less of a monster than you!”

“I didn’t mean to, Wilbur!” Eret wrapped their arms around themself, “I was tired and injured.”

“Of course you were fucking injured!” He hissed out, “You deserved to be!”

“I know.” Eret hung their head, “I know, Wilbur. I’ve known that all my life.”

“Then you should have given yourself the mercy of death the moment you first turned!”

“You don’t think I tried?!” They both took a breath. They stood in one of the many great halls of Eret’s home, a castle hidden deep within the forest, far from the prying gaze of any mortal. Eret gestured to the portraits of vampires before them, vampires that were absent from the castle. Wilbur and Eret were the only ones in the castle, and in the past few months, Wilbur wondered where Eret’s servants were. Where were the butlers? The maids? The human bloodbanks? “I’m not ancient, but I might as well be. I come from a long ancestry of vampires, but it wasn’t by choice, Wilbur. My… sire… he was cruel, but he cared for me too much to let me go and die.”

“Where’s your sire now?”

“I don’t know.” Shame danced across Eret’s face, “But I know that I fear death to try again.”

“So you’d rather drink the blood of the innocent? You’d rather be a monster?!”

“It’s been so long, Wilbur. I don’t recall what it is even like to be human.” It was an odd confession, one filled with so much heart that if Wilbur didn’t know that vampires didn’t have beating hearts, he might have fallen for the trick. He scowled instead, disgust ripping throughout his whole being. To think they’d been his closest friend. Instead, they’d turned and betrayed him by turning him into a parasite like them. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I get so hungry—”

“Then fucking control it!” It was unreasonable, and they both knew that. Wilbur should know, in the first few days since he’s turning, he kept attacking Eret since his new stomach needed his sire’s blood. He’d gotten better control… but sometimes the hunger would take over him again. Eret never complained. Not like they had any right to, after all, this mess was their fucking fault.

“My dad will come for me.” Wilbur spoke softly, “And when he does, I hope he kills us both.”

“I hope not.” Eret shuddered, “In truth, Wilbur. I don’t want to die.” Wilbur didn’t care.

---

“You’re new. Intriguing, but a bit too humanlike for my taste.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hands. Eret had apologized, but for the evening they were meant to host a gathering for the renowned vampire families within the continent. Wilbur had been forced to wear a yellow suit that had a collar that scratched and irritated his neck. After an hour of being gazed and prodded at, he’d had enough of the gathering and had snuck away to a secluded balcony. Fuck Eret’s reputation. Unfortunately, a nuisance had followed after him.

“What, and humans are as good as livestock for you?”

“What of you? Do you understand that not all vampires kill those that they feed upon?”

“Doesn’t change that you’re all bloodsucking leeches.” He huffed, turning away to gaze into the distance. In the forest, one could see the stars of the night, but the only lights Wilbur wanted to see were of a village far, far away. It’s been years. Phil wasn’t coming for him. Neither was Techno. He rubbed at his wrists, the silence felt nice… but he knew the other vampire hadn’t left.

“That’s your issue. You still act human when you’re no longer one. Haven’t you understood that you’re trapped just like the rest of us… well, the rest of them?” The stranger moved to stand next to him, placing their arms against the cold stone banister. Wilbur took a moment to glance over, his breath catching in his throat. A pair of warm chocolate eyes stared up at him curiously. The stranger wore a light blue suit, and despite Wilbur’s assumption that all vampires were tall, this stranger was short… shorter than Wilbur. He was dressed finely, carrying himself with a strong elegance that only years of nobility could give. The only oddity was the goggles around his neck.

“...what do you mean?”

“I’ve been alive for centuries.” The stranger sighed, “I’m one of the ancients.”

“So you’ve turned many innocents into monsters.” The stranger let out a low laugh, mirthless and tired. It sounded like they’ve been told the same accusation before. Wilbur squirmed right where he stood. In truth, the stranger was far from what he expected an Ancient Vampire to be. Phil had told them that Ancient Vampires were powerful, and that they barely even looked human at all. His dad had never been wrong… and he would never lie. “But you look… normal.”

“Humans and exaggerations.” The stranger rolled his eyes, arching a brow at Wilbur. “Why do you cling to human beliefs? In the end they are inferior… and some are monsters themselves.”

“That’s not true.”

“What? Do you believe that all human misery stems from the existence of vampires?”

The stranger sighed, casting his gaze to the heavens. “Think. Aren’t we all monsters in our own ways?” He paused, catching Wilbur’s eye. “Vampires, humans… we all are monsters. A vampire who kills for the sake of killing and a father who abandons his son to die… both monsters, hm?”

He stayed silent for a long while, letting his heart finally crack under the truth. “I’m Wilbur.”

The stranger scoffed, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m George Lore. A pleasure to meet you.”

---

“He’s an actual angel.”

Wilbur watched his husband cradle the human boy that they had taken from a nearby village, the poor baby looked pale, his breath coming out in short huffs. George had wrapped an orange ribbon around their son’s neck, concealing the bite marks that would begin their son’s transformation. He had wanted to turn the boy himself, but George had intervened. Wilbur had only been a vampire for ten years, he wouldn’t have the self-control to simply bite and not feed.

“He bumped into me.” Wilbur chuckled, “I just knew he was perfect.”

‘It had been odd. His father had stated once before that vampires couldn’t walk underneath the sunlight, but that had been a terrible misconception, one that Eret and George had both laughed at. The idea had stemmed from - actually, they were an ancestor of Eret - a vampire who had had a very dramatic reaction to the sun after decades of being chained inside an underground vault.

Wilbur laughed mirthlessly. Another lie. Maybe vampire hunters were just full of shit.

He walked through the bustling streets of the city, his pace slow and relaxed. He’d gone with Eret to procure a few fruits from the village market, but while Eret’s back was turned, Wilbur snuck away to have a morning stroll around the wooden buildings and through the small alleyways.

Wilbur had slipped into an alleyway when a bright orange blur bumped right onto him. If he had been human, he would have continued on, slightly irritated but unaware of the crime that had just been committed. But he hadn’t been human for so long, and the world to him was a swirl of motion and color. Slow, the present quickly melting into the past. He gripped the hand that had snuck into his pocket, his vice-like grip nearly bruising as he pulled the orange blur to face him. A pained whine escaped the thief, small and so childlike that Wilbur had nearly let them go then and there. He kept his mercy at bay, eyes narrowed dangerously at the cretin who had dared to—

Wide brown eyes flecked with gold stared up at him in fear. The child had collapsed completely in Wilbur’s hold, practically hanging against the hand that was curled around his wrist. Wilbur adjusted his grasp, easing up so as not to hurt the poor child. But he’d been a bit too late. A river of tears cascaded down the child’s cheeks, small whimpers piercing through the quiet air.

“I’m sorry!” The child continued to cry, “Please don’t hurt me! I just… I was so hungry…”

“You were hungry?” The question only made them cry even louder. “Oh no, it’s alright. Shhhh.”

He kneeled so that he was at face-level with the child. “What’s your name, champ?”

“F-Fundy…” The boy sniffed, wiping his nose on the tattered sleeve of his black jacket. Wilbur took in the child’s clothes, the dirt that clung to pale skin… Wilbur didn’t need to ask to know. He gently let go of the child, careful to keep a hand on the child’s back so that he wouldn’t immediately try to run away. Fundy didn’t move, his bottom lip trembling. Wilbur continued to shush him, moving the child so that he was closer to him, enough for Wilbur to catch him in case he tried to run away. Fundy was hungry. Wilbur knew a thing or two about hunger. The boy was still staring at him. He made a quick decision. Wilbur smiled. He and George did want a kid…’

“He was hungry. I couldn’t just leave him, love.”

Wilbur approached George, his husband had placed Fundy back on the huge bed that seemed to swallow him. He was so small. He ran a hand through their son’s curly hair, catching George’s eye as his husband bit into his wrist. Newly made vampires needed their sire’s blood to survive.

“Well,” George placed his wrist above Fundy’s lips. “He won’t go hungry now that we’re here.”

---

Techno sharpened his dagger.

The glow of the fire illuminated the monster’s face, the dark blood that pooled against their pale skin a constant reminder that the person before him was nothing more than a bloodsucking leech upon humanity. He sheathed his dagger, a part of him eager to pierce through the vampire’s skin and tear out their heart. He couldn’t, not yet. They were bait for the Ancient. His actual target.

“He won’t come,” the vampire muttered. “Not for me. We aren’t kin… o-or are you—?”

“I’m here for Lore.” Techno huffed, “Not Brine.”

The beast raised their gaze, the warm fire somehow weaker against the light of their pure white eyes. It was the mark of the Brine Vampire Clan, powerful ancient vampires that once brought chaos upon the world. But to Techno, this particular vampire was more damning than any other vampire in existence. He knew their face, he knew their name. Wilbur had trusted them once, and look where that had gotten him. Mutilated somewhere, a decomposing corpse that would never find its way back home. “You haven’t killed me yet. I would have thought that you…”

“I wish I’d killed you those years ago.” He had been so close. A few inches off the heart. If only his aim hadn’t been so shaky back then, then maybe Wilbur would still be… “I wish I did.”

Tommy had hated him for being late. Their relationship had never recovered after that fateful night. If Techno hadn’t hesitated. If Techno hadn’t froze the moment he realized where the vampire had run off to. If Techno had run just a bit faster. By the time he reached their house, Tommy had collapsed by his and Wilbur’s bedroom door, skin so pale that Techno worried that the vampire had gotten him too. He’d taken one look at the empty bedroom, the white curtains billowing as the night air came from the open window, dark blood left to dry on the carpet. He’d known. He’d known back then. His twin was gone. Devoured by a beast that he’d failed to kill.

“Techno, I am sorry. I can’t help what I am. You injured me, I was injured, bleeding, and scared. My instincts took over. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never meant to hurt Wil.” His hand clenched against the hilt of his blade. He would not listen to such lies. Twenty years. Twenty years since the monster before him took away his twin brother. Twenty years of blaming himself for failing. Phil never blamed him, of course his dad would never blame him. But on bad days, Phil would confuse him for Wilbur finally come back to them. That’s why he’d dyed his hair.

“Senseless apologies do not bring the dead back to life. It does not mend the frayed relationships of a broken family. It does not erase the years of guilt and sorrow. It does not erase the hurt that you caused. You took away a life, and I should take away yours. Wilbur wouldn’t have wanted me to. He was our family’s poet, the one who could see the beauty of the world despite the monsters that lurked within it. I should kill you for the pain you’ve caused my family.” Techno’s hand trembled. The beast stared at him through the orange flame, a perplexed look crossing their face. Of course, they wouldn’t understand human grief. “I’ll have your head after I have Lore’s.”

He took a deep breath. If there had been any other vampire that could bait the Ancient, then Techno would have gladly used them instead. Being around this particular vampire brought forth emotions that he’d buried years ago. There was still a question that was poised at the tip of his tongue, an urge to ask what Eret had done to his twin’s corpse. Had they buried him? Or had they left Wilbur to rot until nature consumed every piece of his body? He wanted to know, but he feared that the vampire would mock him. So, he kept his question unasked. Ignorance was bliss.

---

“Techno.” He froze, hands poised over the silver-lined ropes that kept Eret’s hands tied behind their back. Wilbur had snuck closer into the empty camp, ears desperately trying to catch every little noise, but the fire had rendered his efforts useless. Techno had used the crackle of wood to disguise his footsteps, using it to sneak behind Wilbur, a familiar blade pressed to the side of his neck. The dagger wavered, but it stayed where it was. He took a chance to look behind him.

It was like looking at a mirror, except he didn’t have pink hair. “Wilbur…?”

A flicker of disbelief danced in those emotionless eyes, it surprised him. A part of him looked at his twin, and he could almost feel his old human heart beat inside his chest. He wanted to reach out, pull his brother into a tight embrace. Techno had grown up… and Wilbur knew he was the same age he was when he’d been turned. He was happy to see Techno again, but… the blade lowered from his neck. Yet Techno hesitated. Suddenly, all the bitterness and pain came surging back. Techno didn’t care for him. To his twin brother, he was nothing but another beast to slay.

He gripped the hilt of the dagger, twisting it away from his brother’s grasp before Techno could even fight back. His family had left him for dead. And now Techno was here to kill Eret and George, maybe he’d end up harming Fundy too. Wilbur can’t have that. He won’t lose his family.

Wilbur bared his fangs, “I’ll kill you. Take a single step, Technoblade, and I will tear you open.”

=============================================================

I didn’t mean to... but like, midway while I was writing this I suddenly decided “nah, don’t make the vampires so one-dimensional.” So yeah, a lot of misconceptions on the side of vampire hunters regarding vampires but some vampires still do kill people and most still see themselves as superior to humans. 

Also, yes. Eret is the vampire who took Wilbur because I wanted a bit of angst and I was like: “Hey, make Eret’s betrayal here be the fact that he and Wil are best friends but turns out Eret is a vampire.” Eret never meant to turn Wilbur, but it ended up happening anyway.

Now... about Fundy’s turning... I will leave that ambiguous. While he is in fact an orphan and lives in the streets, it was never mentioned here whether or not he agreed to being turned into a vampire.

Also also, I wasn’t gonna add Techno’s pov but like... “I Didn’t Say Goodbye” from The Mad Ones started playing and I was just: okay, Techno angst time.

I apologize for not adding Tommy but I didn’t know where to put him XD

So yeah, hope you guys liked this!

[bakugohoex]

This may be a bit of a different request, and you may have already done this, but could I ask for Levi comforting a reader after a panic attack...I've had a rough few days and I always seem to have a worse panic attack after the first one... I adore your writing, and it always makes me feel a bit better! 💗

“look at me y/n, you’re with me, you’ll be okay”

pairing: levi ackerman x female reader

cw: mentions of violence, panic attack, language, fluff and comfort 

word count: 2100+

a/n: hi im so sorry this is coming out really late but thank you for the support and i hope you’re doing better, if you ever want to talk to my messages are always open for anything 

summary:  in which you have a panic attack after a long scouting mission and levi comes and comforts you

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Your hands trembled under the dim light that you carried, you could almost see the light shake but didn’t dare surpress the movement. You were an apart of the front line when on expeditions and had gone on your own squad mission, you were only the second in command. But then it had taken a lot more of a toll on you, outside the walls for longer than the normal one-day expeditions. The three days outside with those who had been in your squad.

But here you were on your single horse, the only light from you, your came up high. The only benefit of nightfall was how easily it was to get past unnoticed. You had seen titans around you fast asleep, being as quiet as you could.

Inside though, your heart raced, a shortness of breath came from you. You tried to steady it, you did, but you were alone ten minutes away from the walls. Ten minutes away from humanity, you wouldn’t be alone, you’d be protected. You’d be safe.

The flashes of blood scattered across the trees; you had been laughing with the squad a mere day ago. Now you had left there bodies, left them alone, your breathing hitched, hearing the light dim even more. The coldness swept past you, the faces of half-eaten comrades through your vision before the supressed tears fell down your face.

Your own left arm had been bandaged up; you remember the captain having bandaged you up. His grin wide at the sight of you both joking along beside a campfire. Then his face, the half-eaten face in front of you, there screams tormented your ears.

It filled your insides, screaming and shouts for help. They say that to die a scout was honourable, but you watched them die, watched them plea and bargain, it wasn’t honourable, it wasn’t dignified. It was torturous and pitiful. You tried to wipe your eyes but couldn’t, letting it seep down your face.

Seeing the wall rose, you dropped the waved the light with your last strength. Seeing the doors open, your horse trotted through, seeing men come up to you. “They’re inside.” Trost had housed the scouts for a while now and the men helping you down.

You had no words to them; you didn’t speak only taking your bandaged arm and going to where Erwin and the other captains were. The men who had helped asked where everybody else was, but you were silent, feeling nausea and the tears dripping into your sweat.

All the scouts were together all eating the same gruel it was every other day. The captains and commander sitting on their own table. You saw them, your face flushed and your breathing heavy, you had still been carrying the light, but at the sound of dropping it. The shattering caused the dead silence all eyes turning to you at the door.

Your blood covered fingers, the cut on your cheek, the tears and sweat dripping from your face. Your bandaged arm, your heavy breathing and trembling, it had become too much for you. You only joined to be with your friend, to make sure they would always be safe. But you watched them die, watched them scream and shout as the Titan bit into them, savouring them, you had broken the promise.

“Y/n.” Erwin spoke standing up, he began to walk past everybody, Hanje and Levi following.

You choked on your words but still spoke, “we…we got a…attacked and…and I was the only one who’s…survived.” On your final words the tears welled from your face, you breath quickening, you fell to the ground, your bloody hands up to your face. You sobbed out loud, breaking the silence, Levi came up to you walking past Erwin who was about to talk himself, he bent down to reach your fragile body.

You rocked back and forth, the screams filling your ears, all you could feel, could see was them being eaten. See how your captain had pushed you away from being eaten, you should’ve died, not him. Levi grabbed your shoulder bringing your body into his own, “look at me Y/n, you’re with me, you’ll be okay.”

“L…Levi.” You stuttered but didn’t meet his gaze.

His arms felt soft against your rough shell, going around your bloodied body, you felt sick to the stomach, continuing to rock back and forth with all the memories coming through you. He touched your face softly, a movement that you didn’t expect. He could almost feel your shaky breath hit his skin, he didn’t speak moving his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

He held you close, you could hear him whisper comforts into your ear, staying in his arms. It was comfort he had never given to you, the relationship with him being professional and even with your love for the man. He didn’t love you; this was friendship, this was his comforting a friend and you realised the only person you had left was Levi, the only person who you could call family was Levi.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” It was a question, it wasn’t a command it wasn’t an order, he wanted you to feel safe.

You nodded still trembling, your limbs trembled as you stood up, Levi grabbing your waist to let you lean against him. “Hanje go help.” Erwin ordered not knowing how to react, of course he knew death was always going to happen.

He knew you had experience with death before, but you’d be alone for who knows how long, you’d watched people who you called family die in front of you and worst of all. Worst of fucking all was the strongest soldier he had met became vulnerable in a matter of minutes.

“Commander Erwin we want to go help Y/n.” Eren and his group came up to the man, Erwin didn’t know what to say instead looking at the kids.

“She needs some time.” He spoke before following Hanje and Levi who kept you upright in their arms.

Levi ran a bath for you, you shivered under the coldness. Having only felt it as you stripped the clock off and were left in your bloody clothes, “I’ll go get you some new clothes.” Hanje spoke and you tried to thank her, but you couldn’t speak.

Memories filled through you, smiling at Levi and Hanje a couple days ago, how they gave the same don’t die comment. Your friends did, you had nobody, Levi turned around, an indication for you to strip, you did so and head the water splash as your body was in it. You didn’t care if he saw, nothing mattered anymore, if you let yourself go under the water, who cared.

The panic that had set in and you had stopped trembling as much, but still Levi saw you look outside. Look outside the walls, he knew you were thinking of the corpses that you had left alone. “Y/n.”

You turned to see him, he sat on the stool beside the bath. Grabbing your arm, he rubbed the dirt away, rubbed any blood that had situated on your body. “Levi, I couldn’t save them.” Your voice had become normal, but he could see the tears, see how you breath was still heavy and the faint look that captured your eyes.

“Don’t do this.” He moved to your face, your hair tied, his fingers moved to the cut, it wasn’t deep and would scar over but it was filled with mud and soot. He rubbed it gently, your eyes on his, watching every single thing he did.

“It should’ve been me.” Levi let go of your face glaring at you.

He wasn’t calm anymore, he felt for you of course he did but the words that would come out of his mouth would be a reality check, “no, I’m grateful that you survived because if you died, if you fucking died Y/n, I don’t know what I’d do.”

It was selfish, but since you had spoken the words of being the only survivor, he had been grateful, grateful you had survived. “Levi, don’t say…”

He interrupted you, “don’t what? If you died Y/n…”

He stopped have spoken too much, he regained his normal dull composure, grabbing your other arm and scrubbing the dirt away. “I’m sorry.”

Ignoring the apology, Hanje came back with the clothes, allowing you to get out and change into the fresh survey corps uniform. You smelled fresh and anew, your arm being re wrapped by Hanje as you waited for Erwin.

Even after your panic attack when riding outside the walls and in front of Levi, the thoughts still filled you and your legs shook underneath. “Y/n.” Erwin’s voice fell through the door, his gentle knock making you nod to Hanje to speak.

“Come in.” She spoke standing up for Erwin to take her spot in front of you.

Levi stood beside the window, looking outside, he admired the stars and sky. He hadn’t been there to protect, he hadn’t saved you, he had let you suffer all alone, in the cold and dark. It was a pit of regret and guilt to now have been there for you.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Erwin asked softly.

There voices had become a lot softer trying to be tentative of your fragility, you took in a sharp breathe, fingers trembling, “I…it was two days ago.” You paused looking at your fingers, Levi noticed and came up to you. He grabbed your hands and held them between his fingers, rubbing back and forth across the back of your hand. He nodded for you to continue, it brought some relief and you looked directly into Erwin’s eyes.

You spoke the events that occurred, how you had been camping outside and before you knew it a hoard of titans had come. How there was too many and by the end of the say half of your squad had gotten murdered. It was how you had gotten injured, the squad members left had decided to head back and whilst going back by horse, you encountered another hoard of titans in the morning. The graphic detail of how your friend had gotten eaten and how your captain had pushed you aside to not get killed had created silence in the room.

“I’d been riding since the afternoon, it was…was hard to make sure Titans didn’t see me.” It was your final words, and Levi moved to wipe the stray tear from your eye. He understood more after hearing the story, why you had said it should’ve been you. But mostly he knew he’d have to protect you; he didn’t care you were his only priority and responsibility now.

“We’ll send some men to find their bodies.” Erwin softly brushed your shoulder with his palm, you nodded at him. “Get some rest Y/n.”

You watched him leave but just as him and Hanje were about to leave you spoke, “Erwin.”

He stopped looking at you, you could see the sympathy he had in his eyes, but you needed to say this before anything else, “I’m going on the next expedition.”

Levi was about to speak to stop you, but Erwin spoke up, “if that’s what you want.”

You nodded and he left swiftly, Hanje following. It was dead silent Levi having removed his hands from yours and pacing back and forth. “You can’t go on the expedition.”

“I don’t care Levi, I’m going, who the hell cares if I die? I have nobody, me dying won…” You had clearly disregarded his previous words, when listening you had assumed it all too be friendly and that he was just saying it to be nice.

His interruption made his emotionless face look sterner and angrier, “it’ll affect me, I’d rather die then let you die for your stupid suicide mission.”

It stung but you didn’t speak, only looking down, “I’m not speaking about this, leave.” You moved towards the bed, about to lie down to think and maybe get some rest.

“Y/n, if you die then I’ll have nobody.” It was a whisper, but you heard it, meeting his gaze.

You sat on the bed, he moved closer to you, his hands moving to cup your face, “I need to go.”

“I know, I want to protect you.” You didn’t speak leaning against his shoulder, his arm around your waist bringing you warmth.

You looked out the window, you understood him, you couldn’t protect your friend but maybe you and Levi could protect each other. You understood that the comfort he had brought through your panic attack was a lot more than any friend would do. Staying in his arms, the way his hands moved up and down your sides. In a soft whisper he heard the four words he had dreamt of hearing, “I love you, Levi.”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[jiminstonic]

Apothic | pjm

pairing: yandere!zombie!jimin + g/n reader

word count: 6.1k+

genre: thriller, fluff(?), mild angst

warnings: GORE, violence, puking, obsessive thoughts, death, zombie cannibalism, is it necrophilia when it’s a zombie?? (sorry if i forgot anything)

— synopsis: Ever since the apocalypse hit, it’s been kill or be killed. So, what are you to do when a ghoul would kill for you instead of kill you?

Fuck, no more canned ravioli. Chef Boyardee will be dearly missed.

You crack a smile at your own thoughts while scanning the supermarket aisle, a flickering fluorescent overhead. Dirt and various food wrappers litter the tiled floor that you tiptoe on with sock-covered feet, shoes in hand in order to make as little sound as possible. You’ve yet to see a ghoul in this supermarket, but better to be safe than sorry.

With every item you stuff in your bag, a small sigh of relief passes through your lips. Going nomad helps a lot with your need to be alone, but also comes with many cons. Sitting at the very top of the list is being cautious. If ambushed by a group of ghouls, you must find a way out all on your own. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. But you’re not stupid enough to be noisy, whether you’re really alone or not.

Maybe you’ll get a box of cereal this time. You just hope it won’t make too much noise while in your bag.

You make the round of a few more aisles, grabbing a new toothbrush and a few pens. Some rash cream too maybe, just in case. You start to mindlessly grab items that you might need until you end up in the candy aisle.

Gummy bears. It’s the first thing to grab your attention, better with the nearly vacant shelves, and you refuse to leave without it.

Carefully, you pinch the corner of the bag, gently pulling it from the rack it hangs on. It’s a slow process, and you’re on the verge of regretting it as a scraping starts to sound when you continue to tug. Finally, the rack comes to an end and the bag slips off with no more than a split second of a crinkle. That’s when you decide that you have enough for today’s supply, not wanting to risk much more than that. With a swift spin, you turn to head out, one socked-up foot in front of the other when you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Right at the other end of the aisle, stands a ghoul. It’s as still as a statue, save for the twitch in its fingers.

The sight makes your heart drop and the bag of gummy bears slip from your grasp. The sound that emits when it hits the floor makes the ghoul jump, oddly enough, but it still doesn’t make a single move. It just stands there, watching you.

That’s when you finally snap out of it, stumbling backward and running as fast as you can to the back exit. Even with the machete strapped to your side, you like to avoid having to kill them because, once again, noise. It’s always noise. The same thing that caused a headache for you once upon a time, but is now sometimes caused by the lack thereof.

You can’t care enough to try slipping on your shoes, too busy running for your life down the road. Rocks jab at the bottom of your feet, but you can only tighten your jaw and force yourself to bear it. A bite hurts a lot worse, you remind yourself.

The entire road is bare, same as when you came and is the reason why you even went into the supermarket. No ghouls around. ‘Clear skies’, as you like to call it. So, why was it just that one ghoul there? And how did you not notice it before?

Your pants come out in a near wheeze as you push yourself through the heavy door. Once it’s shut behind you, you fall back onto it and slide down to the floor. The thick air of the high school locker room suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when you’re gasping for breath.

With one last deep breath, you push yourself up with a huff. You sling the bag from off of your shoulder and let it drop to the ground, not very worried about its contents. With a tug on the strap around your torso, the velcro pulls apart and you place it on a metal table sticking from the brick wall, the machete only making a small thud.

Your mattress is in the deeper corner of the locker room with the rest of your stuff. The lockers in that spot hold more than you should probably keep, but you’re not very worried about anyone raiding the place. As far as you know, this town is abandoned.

Your feet drag across the tile as you make your way toward the showers, flicking on every one of the battery operated fans as you pass by. You don’t know how or why, but there’s still running water coming into the locker room. You’ve always tried not to question it, afraid of jinxing it just for the water not to work anymore. And you’re worried for when winter comes, since the water can only run cold. But you’re grateful for it. There’s no way you can’t be.

Usually, you’d pick a cd out of your stash to put into the battery operated player, but you don’t want to waste any time in washing off the sweat that sticks to your skin. With your clothes thrown to the floor at your feet, you turn the nozzle and immediately feel the cool water rush against your skin. You’re quick to grab the bar of soap, one of the many you’ve made sure to collect, and rub it against your skin.

You wake up randomly, not bothering to sit up and separate yourself from the warmth of the blanket, even if it is just a fireproof blanket. But the grumble of your stomach forces you to change your mind. Eating something before crashing on the mattress would’ve been a smart decision.

With a kick, you fling the blanket from your body, setting your feet onto the floor. As you stand, the faint breeze from the fans hit you, waking you further. You rummage through the lockers containing food, not being able to see much of anything—it’s still dark out. The moon is high in the inky sky, a tell-tale sign of the night’s peak. It casts its glowing rays through the high windows to beam down in sections on the tile.

Your hand finds a pack of crackers that you settle for; it’s only a late night snack anyways. Shutting the locker door, you practically jump out of your skin at seeing the dark figure that stands there. A shriek escapes you, feeling your heart drop far into your chest as you drop the crackers in favor of clumsily shuffling backward into the corner of the lockers. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of the figure if they’re here to hurt you, take everything you have left.

You can’t even see their face yet, the moonlight only illuminating their torso. Looking at what you’re able to actually see, you notice that they’re holding a bag, quickly recognizing the gummy bear logo. Your brow shoots up in question.

It isn’t until you shift your eyes back to their shadowed face that you realize they’re getting closer, the moonlight racing up their body. You push yourself further into the lockers pressed against your back, not thinking it was even possible to be any closer. Your breaths come out quicker, nostrils flaring as you begin to panic with every step the stranger makes toward you. Looking past them, you catch sight of your machete that sits on the table, useless on the other side of the room.

Maybe you can side step them, make a narrow escape and grab the weapon, impaling them with it before they can blink twice.

But that plan bursts into flames as you feel their presence just inches from you. They’re eerily quiet, not even the sound of breathing could be heard from them, only you. You slowly look at their face, the moonlight finally bringing it to light, and you panic further upon the sight.

They’re a ghoul. The ghoul. It’s the same one that you ran from earlier today in the store. It’s pale and delicate face, devoid of life and showcasing veins here and there, is surprisingly unscathed. It-...he must’ve been a gorgeous man when he was alive. His blue-ish violet lips stand out the most, especially with the dried blood that stains them. His eyes are the most unique you’ve seen for a ghoul. Usually, a ghoul’s irises were clouded over in a deathly white mist, but he only has one eye like that. The other is perfectly normal, it’s deep brown holding a single sparkle from the light. It’s captivating, to say the least.

Not once has his eyes drifted from you, and it’s starting to make you worry even more. You can already feel the sting of an impending bite everywhere he looked on your skin. It was torture, and he kept getting closer and closer, making you shut your eyes in fearful expectation. Yet, a bite never came. He didn’t fiercely tear away at your flesh with his teeth, making you his late night snack just as you were fearing. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Instead of a painful bite, you felt cold skin pressed against your chest. It has you feeling your own rapid heartbeat against your rib cage. Slowly, you open your eyes to look down, only to see him leaning his forehead against your chest. You’re beyond confused, but you don’t push him away in fear that it may trigger him to actually kill you. And so, you stay impossibly still as he has his...moment?

You watch as he slowly moves his head, the tip of his nose brushing against your skin until you feel his slightly parted lips do the same. He stays there with the tip of his nose and lips lightly touching you, right over your pounding heart. You have no idea what he might be thinking—if he can think. If there’s more to ghouls than what people know, then you are just as clueless.

Suddenly, you feel—as well as hear—him take a deep inhale. It makes you clench your fists that are pressed against the lockers since you’re still too afraid to squirm away from him. His exhale comes out as a small, soft whine, almost as if he were in pain, but still content. You’ve never heard anything so smooth and airy come from a ghoul before, most of them wasting what’s left of their voice boxes by incoherently yelling. He presses his free hand rather harshly against the locker next to your side, emitting a bang that has you flinching. With the same arm, he pushes himself upright to meet your eyes. Once again, he lets out a soft hum while you keep eye contact, and if he were still alive, you would’ve melted at the sweet sound.

It’s not until you feel a nudge at your hip that you look down, seeing him pushing the bag of gummy bears toward you. Hesitant, you glance back up at him, gauging his intentions only to be met with the same stare. He was waiting, wanting you to take it. So you did. With a shaking hand, you take the bag from him, and his arm immediately falls limp at his side as if he were carrying a large weight this entire time.

As he steps back, you take the only chance you have and run past him while dropping the bag, the machete being your only priority. You grab it, spinning around with it already raised high in the air and pointing at the ghoul, ready to bring it down into his chest. But you stop halfway, the sight in front of you completely catching you off guard. His eyes are wide, scared even, hands held in front of him to shield himself from your attack. They shake with the effort he puts into holding them up, and you slowly start to break at the dawning realization. Your grip on the weapon’s handle immediately disappears, the blade dropping to the floor with a resounding clang.

“What am I even doing?” You whisper, appalled by the aggression you didn’t think twice about. That’s not like you, it never was like you. Even if the one standing in front of you is a being that can rip your flesh and devour your organs in an instant, you were still disgusted with yourself.

Sure, his actions were confusing and you’ve never seen a ghoul act so...human. But that definitely doesn’t mean you should put a blade in his skull without a second thought, all because he confused you.

On the other hand, you’ve lived with the apocalypse for half of your lifetime, only ever knowing to kill or be killed. There weren’t many times you had to kill a ghoul, but when you did, there was never the satisfaction that others talked about after taking one down. You never felt victorious or powerful. Only guilty and despondent. Even if it was their fate, a fate that could’ve never been reversed.

So you stand there, tears blurring your vision as you’re unable to meet the eyes of the ghoul in front of you. All of your thoughts are like knives spearing your heart, and you’re unable to focus on anything else around you. Shutting your eyes, the tears flow freely as a sob erupts from you. Maybe this has been building up for weeks, months even. Leaving your makeshift family to go nomad, adjusting to being on your own, jumping from place to place, and never knowing where is truly safe. It was all piled up stress, and this was the peak of it, your breaking point.

Lost in those thoughts, the sudden feel of lips on your cheek make you still and blink until your vision was no longer blurred. He was kissing your tears. You can feel how the ghoul’s lips were pressed ever so gently on the salty trail, and it only made you feel worse to know that he was trying to comfort you only seconds after you tried to end his afterlife.

“I’m so sorry... I don’t deserve that...” Placing your hands against the ghoul’s cold chest, you softly push him away and make a beeline for the mattress. You were no longer worried about the possibility of him eating you alive—he would’ve done that already. He would’ve done it instead of giving you the gummy bears you had wanted today, instead of kissing your tears away. What a complex, lovely ghoul.

You curl yourself into a ball once wrapped up in the blanket and lay with your back towards him, not yet having the heart to face him any longer.

As for the ghoul, he never thought he could once again feel his motionless heart constrict so much. The sight of your tears made an indescribable feeling dwell within him.

He sits on the ground, leaning back against the lockers as he watches your balled up form. Oh, how he wants to hold you right now, feel you in his arms, even if they are still weak.

When he stumbled upon you today, he knew he had to have you. You were glowing under the flickering fluorescents and he swore he felt butterflies. But he was a coward, standing there as you sped off in fear, slipping through his fingers. For that split second, he had forgotten what he really is. How foolish.

He doesn’t remember what exactly happened to him; all he knows is that he slowly turned into what he is now. He can’t quite recall his own name, although he knows for a fact that it starts with a J. He also knows for a fact that he is /not/ like all of the other ghouls. Yet, they all limp alongside him as if they see nothing wrong, because they can’t. He’s positive that maggots have eaten half of their brains already with the way they have no communication whatsoever, or sense of direction and coordination. Unless they’re after food, then it’s a one-track mind.

And he can’t lie, he’s done his fair share of flesh chewing, but he’s only ever felt as if he was going through the motions. It wasn’t as important to him as it was to the rest of the walking dead. He’s never tried talking, so he must’ve lost his voice from never using it, which explains why he had such a hard time speaking to you. That, and his body that never really decomposed, leaving him on the fence of death. He had tried so hard to tell you something, anything, but it just didn’t work out in his favor.

You also smell amazing. Your lingering scent was what led him to you, after all. If it wasn’t for the way you caught his attention, he might’ve taken a few bites of you. No doubt the urge is still there, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He could never.

He can still feel the vibrations of your heartbeat, it’s calming sound that put him at ease. His lips still tingle with the warmth of your skin. Sure, it was a bold move on his part, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. He’d do it over and over again. Even if you ended up nearly bashing his head in for a second time.

His mind was running wild with the visions of you, your warmth that is so close now, yet still so far away. But his serenity was interrupted as a bang resounded. His head snapped in the direction it came from, sadly taking his eyes off of your now sleeping form. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep, he muses, wishing you would’ve used his shoulder to let out your pain.

He’s met with the darkness of the rest of the locker room, silence returning, but he can’t take any chances. Shakily, he pushes himself up, trying to take on a protective stance and shielding you with his body, but ultimately failing when his spine slacks under his own weight. The damn zombie body, he internally curses.

With dragging feet, he makes his way around the corner, only to be met with the silhouette of a ghoul standing in the doorway that he broke off himself in order to get to you. He must’ve been so consumed with tracking you down that he missed any sign of other ghouls around. Oh, how distracting you are to him.

It was obvious that the other can smell you, trying to make its way toward where you sleep while foolishly ignoring him. Without hesitation, he snarls, lunging at the intruding ghoul. There’s no way he’s letting it get anywhere near you. Not without ripping it to unidentifiable pieces, anyways. The anger quickly boiling up within gives him the strength to knock down the ghoul, letting the thought of you push him further, far beyond self-control.

You woke up slower than usual, the weight of the night before still heavy on your chest. He was on your mind right when your eyes opened to the morning light beaming into the locker room. Your dreams were even plagued with him—dreams that are rather compromising to have with a ghoul. You aren’t even sure if you really want to remember it. And it’s sad to say, but you didn’t feel so lonely.

Looking over to the lockers, you find the spot empty of his presence, making you jump up from the mattress. He couldn’t have just up and left, not after last night.

You nearly laugh at your own thoughts. Who are you to act that way toward a ghoul? It isn’t as if you slept with him. Not in reality, anyways; his little moment last night must’ve really gotten to you. It all makes your brow furrow, not understanding your own mind and feelings.

You walk around the corner of the lockers, picking up a foul stench that makes you immediately cover your nose and mouth. Whatever it could be, you know it isn’t good. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were met with at the door.

There you found him, sitting on the floor with his back turned to you, hunched over a mutilated body. Not any human body, but another ghoul, or what once was. Its head, torn off at the shoulders, lays a foot away from its body, unfortunately facing you. Its foggy eyes wide and seemingly staring into your soul. Its jaw is hanging by a thread, pulled apart with the stretched flesh hanging like strings. Whether it was always that way or not, you’d rather not know.

Both arms were ripped from its torso, one of them laying in tact, the other in pieces at each joint. Discolored blood is smeared on the floor, most likely from the gaping hole in the torso.

You try to suppress a gag—because of both the smell and sight—but it was futile. The sound alerts the other to your presence, making his head snap toward you. The same discolored blood from the floor is slathered on and around his mouth, dripping down his neck and staining his already dirty clothes. Something must’ve snapped him out of whatever mindset he was stuck in because upon seeing you standing there, visibly appalled, made his stomach churn. He pukes it all up right there, the disgusting taste of zombie organs finally registering with him.

You quickly look away, fighting off gags with your forearm pressed against your mouth. Never have you witnessed something like this. A ghoul eating another ghoul was just unheard of. It didn’t seem logical with what a ghoul’s diet really consists of: humans. He puked it all up as well, begging the question of whether he really wanted to or not. It would seem that way with how you walked up on him taking bites from the other’s intestines, but with him, you have to question everything you know.

Glancing back, you find him trying to wipe off the remnants of the other ghoul. He was struggling, even looked a little confused. So, you couldn’t help what you were about to do.

“Come on,” walking up to him, you hold your hand out toward him, “come with me.”

The look he gives you could’ve shattered your heart, his wide puppy-like eyes staring up at you coupled with the blood smeared on his face shouldn’t make you feel that way. It should make you feel disgusted, yet you only feel that way toward the mess and stench.

With a shaking, bloody hand, he takes yours, letting you lead him to wherever you were going. He wasn’t very focused on that, though. No, the sight of your hand grasping his is far too enthralling. The fact that you initiated it makes it feel even better.

Once at the showers, you pull him into the stall, making him stand just far enough to not be under the shower head. Letting go of his hand—much to his dismay—you reach past him and turn the nozzle, the sound of water smacking against the tiles echoing. You quickly take the opportunity to hold your hand under the water, washing off the blood that transferred onto your palm. You both watch as the dark substance flows on the floor and down the drain, getting stuck in creases along the way. He mimics your actions, surprising you when he skips waiting for the blood to wash off, immediately going to caress the lines of your palm.

“Why did you do it?”

Your voice is gentle to his ears, much like a soft caress. He did it for you. It was all for you. He would’ve killed anyone who walked through that door, not just a ghoul who wanted you for food. He could see no reason for anyone else to be in there anyways. He was protecting you. There’s no way he’d let anyone or anything touch you, not even come near you. He’d make sure of it even after you’re only his to keep. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

As for eating the other ghoul—that wasn’t planned. It was almost as if he blacked out. He can remember smelling you as he was ripping the limbs from the ghoul. It was too much to handle, so he bit into the ghouls thin, decaying flesh in an attempt to alleviate the hunger he felt for you.

He didn’t have the courage to confess it all to you, he didn’t want to scare you off. So, he ignored the question in favor of bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek.

“Please...”

His voice is unexpected, making you freeze completely and stare at him in shock. His eyes sparkle, staring at you pleadingly while you still try to comprehend the fact that he talked to you. There was a break in his voice that pulled at your heart, so you can’t stop yourself when you swipe your thumb across his cheek. His eyes flutter in bliss as you begin to wash the blood from his skin. The dark blood is like a waterfall on his skin, a contrast to his translucent and paling skin.

Your heart starts to beat faster as your fingers inch closer to his lips, yet they still dance across the bottom one ever so gently. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your fingertips upon feeling them, gliding his hands up your arm to hold your wrist in place. You didn’t expect the first kiss, and you definitely don’t expect when he continues to kiss different spots on your hand. It’s almost as if he’s lost in what he’s doing, his eyes shut as he concentrates on pressing his lips to your skin over and over again. You can feel the heat that rises to the tips of your ears while you watch him.

But the moment is short lived when you gently push him back, leaving him standing under the water. Hurt flashes across his features, a look that you force yourself to ignore.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to wash up properly,” you’re unable to make eye contact with him, but you still hold your tingling hand to your chest. “...and I’ll get you my mouthwash. Must still have a bad taste in your mouth.”

He can only nod in agreement and watch you walk off, never sparing him a glance. His heart hurts, but swells simultaneously at you caring for him. You’re right, there’s still a bad taste in his mouth. And he highly doubts that you would’ve wanted his nasty throw up mouth on you. How inconsiderate of him, he scolds himself.

You do exactly as you told him you would, opening up your bag and grabbing the travel bottle of mouthwash. But you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you’re basically on autopilot. You’re well aware of your heart still going haywire in your chest. It’s a little embarrassing, a ghoul making you feel this way. Maybe if you could just get past that stigma...

No way. There’s no way you’re seriously contemplating being with a ghoul. But it’s so tempting when he’s so sweet to you, practically worshiping your body every chance he gets. It’s supposed to creep you out, scare you—you know that. Still, your thoughts are filled with what it might feel like to let yourself go to him. You just don’t think you could handle it if he went all ghoul-cannibal again.

Those thoughts come to a halt once you walk up to his stall. His bare back is turned to you, littered with dark veins that demand to be seen through his deathly skin. The dried blood in his light hair washes away as he holds his head under the water. He didn’t bother taking his pants off, something you’re not sure if you’re actually thankful for.

Stuck staring, you notice the marks on the back of his right bicep. A bite. The teeth marks are messy, but left visible holes in his skin nonetheless. That must be how he turned, you think, must be why the rest of his skin is barren of gashes and punctures. Black veins branch out from the old wound, leaving the surrounding skin dark. Though it makes you wonder...did he die alone? That possibility makes your heart fall.

“Hey...”

His voice pulls you from your melancholic reverie. It still surprises you, his small voice. It doesn’t waver this time though, most likely getting used to using his vocal chords. He’s turned to face you now, chest and stomach accentuating his lean stature. You force yourself to hand him the mouthwash before you get too lost while looking at him again.

“Hey. Here you go.”

He takes the bottle from you, trying to pull the cap off, ultimately cracking it. Bringing the rim up to his lips, he takes a swig, surprisingly not struggling to keep it all in his mouth as he swishes it around. He makes brief eye contact with you as he spits it out—well, more like letting it spill from his mouth, the minty liquid dripping from his bottom lip to flow into the drain. Eyes meeting once again, he stares at you with an almost menacing look while sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight sends a shiver through you, not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

Still full of surprises, he drops both the bottle and cap, letting them bounce on the tile as he reaches for you. Panic shoots through you when he grasps your hips, pulling you into him and under the flow of water. Maybe this was his breaking point. Maybe he was finally going to kill you—eat you.

But he only wraps his arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace. His face fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, a fact that leaves him as elated as feeling you against his cold skin. He can hear the breaths you take right next to his ear, a sound that comes second to your heartbeat—his favorite. The pounding muscle, especially when it speeds up, sparks excitement within him. He can just imagine the rapid beating doubled with your quick breaths, how you would say his name...

Wait. His name.

In that split second, he remembers it perfectly. All it took was the thought of you. It’s always you. You are his complete motivation; he would do anything for you. Anything at all.

“Jimin...” He huffs out into your shoulder, still having a hard time getting any words out since he already doesn’t breathe. It’s the moment you realize that he’s just a human stuck in a ghoul’s body.

By now you can’t help but ghost your hands over his arms, your fingertips going against the water droplets gliding along his skin. You’re both soaked, but it’s the least of your worries when he speaks the single name to you.

“That’s your name...isn’t it?” You can feel him nod in affirmation, his cheek brushing against your shoulder almost in a shy manner. However, his brazen actions paint him as anything but shy.

“Mine’s ____,” you whisper directly into his ear, oblivious to the true effect it has on him. Your name is something that he will commit to the little memory he still has. He’ll chant it over and over again if that’s what it takes to never forget your name. Lifting his head up, he locks eyes with you. His hair, drenched with water dripping from the ends, almost covers his contrasting orbs. You feel his arms tighten around you with his next words.

“____...”—making your breath hitch—“say it...” You stare at him in confusion, not quite sure what he means. “Say my name.”

His once soft tone is suddenly demanding, throwing you off, but reeling you in all at once. You’re captivated, completely and utterly captivated by him.

“Jimin.”

And he doesn’t waste a second in connecting your lips, his hand holding you in place on the side of your neck. It surprises you, but you’re quick to melt into his lips. His grip borders on tight, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so focused on how his lips feel. Soft and plush against your own in a delicious dance. And now, you didn’t have to wonder anymore with his lips latched to yours.

Jimin turns you until your back is pushed against the stall, all while you feel his tongue peek out to graze your bottom lip. The action has you letting out a small gasp and he takes the chance to push his tongue into your mouth, leaving you even more breathless when you feel it glide against your own. You can feel his hand massaging and gripping your waist, in turn making you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. With his body pressed against your own and his tongue feeling like heaven, your mind turns to mush. You’re putty in his icy hands.

Jimin detaches from your lips and you finally take a breath of air. His kisses move further down your neck, his tongue swirling on your skin with every few press of his addicting lips. You’re practically seeing stars already, eyes drooping in bliss. With him so close to your ear, you can hear each and every hum from him that has warmth spreading throughout your body. As his lips travel higher on your neck, you lean your head back, baring your throat to him. Jimin’s practically ravaging your skin, his kisses getting fervent, making you sigh as you card your fingers through his drenched hair.

And then suddenly, with his mouth opening wider, a searing pain sparks on your neck. Your eyes shoot open to be greeted with the molded ceiling that has you crashing back to reality. A pained sound escapes your open mouth as the realization dawns on you. Jimin is biting your neck. You can feel each and every puncture of his teeth into your skin, and he only bites down harder when you try to move. With all of the strength you can muster, you push him away harshly, finally getting him to stop sinking his teeth into you.

With foggy vision, you watch as he stumbles back, hitting the stall behind him. Your blood coats his lips and stain his teeth, and you can see it on his tongue when he licks his lips. All sound fades until there’s just a constant ringing.

Clutching your neck, you can feel the thick and slimy liquid that coats your skin. Even though you already know what it is, you can’t help but look at your shaking palm, caked and dripping with your own blood. Looking back up, you find Jimin nearing you once again. Hastily, you move backward until you’re cornered like you were before with your back against the stall. He gets closer and closer, watching you carefully, especially the blood that gushes from your neck. You sob when he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, not letting you jerk away.

“Beautiful...perfect...” And he means it. The thick red dripping along your body is a divine sight. He hates that you have to hurt for this to happen, and he’d be furious if it were anyone else that had done it, but it needed to be done. How else were you going to stay with him? Surely not as a human. Of course, he loved the beating of your heart and the warmth that you held, but he knew it would get in the way of making you his. This was inevitable.

His bite will stay there long after you’ve become undead, a fact that had him even more excited. His mark on your skin would be visible forever, a constant reminder of who you belong to—who made you. It was perfect.

Jimin watches you carefully, and it seems you’ve lost the will fight, though you never stopped glaring at him through your tears. You were already bitten, it was inescapable. But little did you know this was your fate from the moment you saw him in that abandoned store. You foolishly put hope into being with him, the deceiving ghoul that he truly is.

Your eyes start to roll back into your head, legs giving out with Jimin catching you before you can hit the hard floor. Picking you up, he leaves the running shower behind to carry you over to the mattress. Your body is limp in his arms, either passed out or already dead. After all, he picked the perfect spot to bite you. With the wound on your neck, it’ll take no time for the infection to make its way to your brain. He’ll have you quicker that way.

He sets your body on the mattress, blood quickly pooling on the fabric. Already, he can see the bite mark start to take effect, slowly starting to look just like his. It’s a gorgeous sight to him, and he can’t wait until you finally awaken. Then, he’ll be able to keep you forever.

© jiminstonic 2020

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